


T’lara, Dragonlady of Erebor

by jillianbaade



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Pernese Dragons, F/M, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25933633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillianbaade/pseuds/jillianbaade
Summary: The Hobbit/Dragonrider of Pern crossover you probably never wanted to see.Newly appointed Weyrling Master T’lara, female rider of green Omath goes for an innocent night flight after a Hatching. Trouble is, there’s some sloppy visualisation due to exhaustion.A rare  Balin romance
Relationships: Balin (Tolkien) & Original Female Character(s), Balin (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

They had fought Thread for 40 years. Although Omath showed no signs of age, her Rider did. T’lara was grey haired now, instead of the deep brown of her youth, her tresses, now growing out that Threadfall had ceased were a clear silver-white. Her eyesight too, meant she needed glasses to write up her records, but she felt spry and able despite being in her sixth decade.

Still, it was grand to be the Rider of the biggest, strongest green dragon on Pern. Born Telara of Fort Hold, the youngest daughter of Lord Groghe. Bred and trained to marry a minor lord, one of her father’s Holders on a far flung runner beast hold bound to Fort, she had been taken on search by the famous brown Canth, and his equally heroic Rider, F’nor, to stand for one of Ramoth’s queen eggs. Normally, of course, she would have been searched for a Fort hatching, but Brendan, short of queen candidates had had Fort’s permission to search their weyr bound Holds. 

Luckily, search couldn’t be refused, and T’lara, heavily pregnant with her only child had been whisked away from her fool of a husband and the boringly dull beasthold to stand as a candidate,  
all dressed in white. It was not the queen she won that day, but her beautiful green Omath, a dragon of a soft leaf green, a most unusual colour. Still, she mused, Ramoth and Mnementh had a reputation for breeding unusual dragons, either large, or in Ruth’s case, producing the only ever white Dragon, ridden by Jaxom, Lord of Ruatha Hold.

Three things T’lara had cause to be most happy for in her life. Impressing Omath. Second to that, the birth of her only surviving child, Ricor, now R’cor, a brown rider and wing second in the wing she herself rode in. T’lara would’ve liked more children, but being on active duty as fighting rider meant going between a lot, ands the inevitable loss of early pregnancies, it was one characteristics of being a fighting rider most female green riders never got used to, unlike the honorific contraction of fighting Rider’s names. This was not required of the female green riders, but all but one or two T’lara knew did shorten their names so as to not stand out as being too different from their male counterparts. 

The third was the ending of thread, hopefully if AIVAS was right, forever. Like the end of the last Threadfall in the Oldtime, this Fall ended over Ruatha. Only this time, Ruatha’s own Lord flew in the Fort wings, daring death by Thread with a courage that had had earned him the deepest of respect from all his Holders. 

As a part of this elimination of Thread, T’lara had been honoured and proud to be part of the first team who placed an explosive engine on the Red Star’s surface during a long ago Interval. That had been a mighty effort of cooperation between all the Weyrs, and everyone who had been chosen was looked up to by the other dragonriders. 

The end of Thread, for now at least, and hopefully for all time. Dragons, of course, would be maintained just in case, and because they were beautiful and useful in other ways. Pern, of course owed all them and their riders, a tremendous debt of gratitude for their protection of the planet and it’s inhabitants. 

But really, that was not T’lara’s worry right now. Right now she carried a mended jacket, her son’s favourite. At this hour he would likely be with his closest friends, down by the lake, bathing their dragons. Sure enough she was right.

‘Mother, did you stay up all night just to fix my jacket?’ R’cor asked. ‘You didn’t have to’ he grinned, suddenly seeming a young man again, not the middle-aged father of two aspiring dragonriders he was.

‘You know l like doing stuff for you. Besides, Lessa, F’lar, Brekke and F’nor want to see me. Just as likely to come out of that meeting with six months of latrine duty so l figured l’d best fix your jacket first!’

‘You astound me, Mother. Except for the silver hair and a good few thread scars, you look no older than me! ‘

T’lara laughed. It’s the relief of not needing to fly Thread! We’re all looking younger and more relaxed!’

He chuckled, ‘true Mother. Off you go to your meeting, l’ll see you tonight.’

Flipping her son a rude (but funny) dragonrider hand sign, T’lara went on up to the Senior queen’s weyr. She heard the clink of dishes and the murmur of voices as she greeted Lessa’s queen dragon, ‘good morning Ramoth, may l pass?’ For the huge golden beast had her crossed forelegs against the door, indicating Lessa was only allowing certain visitors.

Expecting Ramoth would simply move her forelegs, T’lara was surprised when Ramoth answered her, ‘Omath’s Rider is always welcome,’ and carefully shifted her huge legs, while looking longingly down at the lake, where several dragons played in the water. T’lara’s Omath was one. 

‘Thank you, my Queen,’ responded T’lara, formally. Knocking on the door, T’lara waited for Lessa’s response even though she knew Ramoth would’ve told her Rider who was outside. Lessa’s clear voice called ‘come in,’ even as F’nor opened the door so quickly T’lara all but fell in. 

Laughing, she accepted the seat next to Brekke, and was urged by her to fill her plate, to have some porridge and warm bread rolls. As T’lara filled her plate, and accepted a cup of Klah from F’lar? Softly thanking the Weyrleader, she wondered what was up, for never had she been poured a drink by F’lar, nor, she reflected, in all the times she’d been in Lessa’s weyr, had she shared a meal with the Senior Queen Rider. Perhaps this was just a reflection of a newly relaxed attitude since the end of Threadfall?

Lessa it was who spoke first. ‘I believe Omath is behind our dragons wish to go swimming.’ T’lara looked at the tiny Weyrwoman. Not for the first time, she considered that while she herself was small, Lessa was tiny indeed. Yet she spoke with crisp authority. ‘Yes, Lessa, Omath is telling Ramoth, Mnementh and Canth to have a swim, the water is lovely and there is plenty of room, and besides, it means we people can relax and not worry about them while we speak. ‘ T’lara knew Lessa and Brekke would’ve heard everything, but she spoke it out loud for the benefit of the two male riders.

Lessa looked towards Ramoth’s glowing green eye whirling in the door gap. ‘Of you go, then dear heart, and take those two male dragons with you.’ There was a rush of wings, a clatter of claws on the stone surfaces, and all three dragons winged off, to quickly join the others in a great, splashing, fun swim.

‘Even the dragons are relaxed and having fun, behaving like weyrlings again,’ commented F’lar.

‘We all are,’ answered Brekke, ‘even the large holds are full of people behaving like giddy children with the end of Thread.’

Everyone agreed. Then Lessa looked up, bright eyed at T’lara. ‘Speaking of weyrlings, we need to appoint a new Weyrling Master.’ There was a moment ‘s silence as all at the table bowed their heads in respect and memory of brown Tulth and his rider, B’rant, who were lost in the last Threadfall, Bendan’s only casualty that final Fall. 

‘So you can imagine we have been considering who to promote to the place,’ continued Lessa.

T’lara began to feel more comfortable. Presumably, she had been asked here this morning to give her opinion on who should have the position, and her mind started to whirl with suggestions as F’lar spoke up, ‘all here, and every other Queen Rider, all the Wingleaders, and Wingseconds have agreed on one person, T’lara.’ He looked at the startled woman, ‘congratulations Greenrider. There have been others who rode green in the position, but never yet a female rider.’

‘Exactly,’ nodded Lessa, ‘so make all the lady riders proud.’

T’lara started to protest, but Brekke laid her hand on T’lara’s. ‘I know all the dragons, even the Queens and Bronzes respect you.’ F’nor grinned from beside his weyrmate, ‘all the riders like you, and you’re good with the young ones.’

Stunned, T’lara stared at the Weyrleader. ‘I am honoured,’ she finally stammered. A loud roar came from the dragons outside, who had shot out of the lake to greet a tithing train from Bendan hold. 

Distracted for a brief moment, the riders took in the sight of a great display of dragons of all colours turning aerial antics more fitting of fire lizards over the long train of carts. They only stopped their play when Lessa firmly pointed out to Ramoth that the baggage animals were about to bolt.

Reluctantly, the dragons dove back into the lake and resumed their water games. ‘I’ll go greet the head of the tithing train, Lessa,’ said Brekke, now finished her breakfast. F’nor left with her.

Finally, T’lara felt she had enough control of her voice to speak, ‘thank you for the confidence you have in me and Omath.’

‘Nonsense,’ F’lar waved a spoon around, flicking the porridge about the table until Lessa removed it from him. ‘You used to help B’rant all the time, you were a logical choice. Of course, you don’t officially begin until Leth’s eggs hatch in about a month, so until then duties will be light, just getting the Candidates used to the Hatching Grounds and the eggs.’

‘Yes, F’lar,’ she acknowledged. 

‘And get used to having breakfast here, with us,’ Lessa continued. ‘We take the progress of the weyrlings seriously as you know. Not that there are any just now.’ T’lara as she listened, to her surprise realised the Weyrwoman, who always seemed so capable and strong, was close to tears.

‘Lessa, you know it was my decision to let them fly Thread, the one chance to use their training. It was a light Fall, and no one could’ve predicted that wind change,’ F’lar tried to soothe the Weyrwoman.

‘I was in the thick of it,’ T’lara remembered. ‘That wind..let’s just say it came out of nowhere, l’d never experienced anything like it.’

‘Even the best pairs had trouble dealing with it, Lessa, it’s unfortunate the weyrlings were right there,’ F’lar again tried to comfort Lessa, who dried her eyes on a napkin and sat up, still a bit pale, but composed. T’lara understood this, B’rant and Tulth’s deaths were still a raw place in most of Bendan riders hearts. It wasn’t just that as Weyrling Master he’d been known to all the Bendan riders, nor was it that the pair had cruelly lost their lives in Last Fall, but that they had sacrificed themselves to save two of the weyrlings, their still not quite full grown dragons buffeted by the sudden high swirling wind gusts that the mature dragons struggled with. Flaming, screaming, brown Tulth, his wings flat to his back had dived as fast as any green straight into the thick clump of Thread that had come seemingly out of nowhere at the two blue weyrlings flying with T’lara’s wing that day. 

Omath and T’lara had also responded to the threat, but that split second too late. Later that day, T’lara and the two blue weyrlings, raised to the status of dragonrider, had led the wild dancing and heavy drinking the blue and green riders indulged in after a dragon and riders death.

T’lara had woken by Omath and had reflected she was getting too old for drinking like that. How she’d managed to get back to Omath she didn’t know, but strongly suspected her son had something to do with it. That had been three months ago, and now she and Omath had to try to fill the place B’rant and Tulth had for 25 years.

It still hurt, she realised, more than it ought to. Perhaps, though, that was more Omath’s emotions. Green dragons were considered overly emotional and flighty, but they had a deep connection with the bronze and brown dragons of their weyr, much like the connection the bronzes had with the queens. It was probably worse for her because Omath had a real fancy for Tulth, and very often he had been the dragon who caught her in a mating flight. B’rant and T’lara, though, had only been friends, good friends but no more, for T’lara never wanted a weyrmate. Ever since the horrible marriage he father had arranged, she’d not wanted a more formal arrangement with anyone. Luckily, her beautiful Omath had saved her from having to go back to that dolt, and R’cor had a better life as a dragonrider than he ever would’ve as a minor holder in Fort.

Five weeks later…Omath was insisting the Hatching would be this afternoon. Many green dragons had an uncanny sense of this and T’lara had been run ragged by her dragon insisting the candidates families be flown in NOW, and getting the Candidates themselves dressed ready to go. It was somehow more exhausting organising all of this than simply assisting with cooking the food, or arranging tables, though as a female rider she and Omath had usually been collecting the Candidates family members, an exhausting task as most were either overexcited or terrified at the thought of riding a dragon.

T’lara was dressed in her best. Not a flowing gown like the Weyrwoman, but new riding clothes, clean boots polished to a high shine, and a new deep green shirt showing both her greenrider and Weyrling Master shoulder knots. Already, she had met so many Candidate’s parents her head span, but she had noticed one thing. Most of the parents seemed delighted their children had been guided by a female rider, and a mature one at that. This was especially useful when the mother of one the queen candidates had reservations about her daughter becoming a Queen Rider based on hearing the most lurid fantasies about dragon mating habits. As a woman, and a green rider, T’lara was able to lay the mother’s fears to rest. 

The actual Hatching, was, of course over far too fast as always. This time seemed quicker because T’lara not only ushered the candidates onto the Hatching Ground but stayed by to help the newly Impressed with their young, clumsy, hungry dragons. Still, she remembered standing there, 42 years ago, heavily pregnant, concentrating on the glowing golden egg with six other girls and young women. Interesting that is was Leth, the queen who chose another that day whose eggs hatched today. Probably her last clutch.

As T’lara personally saw the queen candidates gather around the rocking egg, she looked up at her good friend Petra, Leth’s Rider and waved. Impressing female dragons of the same clutch they had done much of the training connected to riding a female dragon together, much of this supervised by Lessa herself. As a result, T’lara and Petra had always been close, and Lessa had always treated T’lara much as a Junior Queen Rider. 

Yes, T’lara was not unhappy Leth chose Petra that day. At first, one the day itself, she’d been stunned, aware that her future was limited to praying to find another function in the Weyr, or throwing herself on her father’s charity. Her husband had absolutely refused to have her back, and, since she’d been searched had questioned the parentage of her child, convinced only a slut would choose to stand as a queen candidate.

That was when T’lara felt a push on the back of her legs and turned to find a tall leggy green dragonet, large as brown behind her, proclaiming her love for the pregnant woman, her name and now please, was there any food? Smiling, she relived her Impression of Omath, watching with delight as 23 new dragons found their life partners. 

Several hours, she was less pleased. Dealing with the tearful successful and unsuccessful candidates. Dealing with the parents of an unsuccessful queen candidate who had a fit at their sixteen year old daughter staying on in the weyr to try for the next clutch. T’lara had to personally promise to care for the girl and keep the male dragonriders away from her. The green rider was starting to understand why B’rant would get absolutely wreaked on Bendan wine after bedding down all the Hatchlings and their new riders. 

T’lara still remembered the epic hangover she’d had after the wild mourning dance in B’rant’s memory. She’d still been fuzzy two days later. It wouldn’t do to not be able to turn up for duty on her first proper day as Weyrling Master, so maybe a nice, soothing night ride on Omath was what she needed. Dragons, of course, had excellent sight, day or night.

Grabbing her helmet, goggles, and riding jacket, T’lara hesitated before sacking spare gear and extra riding straps. She didn’t know why she did it, she just did. Then running, she mounted Omath, grateful for the training that kept riders fit and agile. Then she urged Omath up, up and away from Bendan Weyr, visualising a place, in a forest, where she’d played as a child. A place far from a crowded weyr, far from disappointed candidates and their parents.


	2. Where on Pern are we?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T’lara and Omath meet some new friends, or should they fear these people.

Omath burst from between, gliding over a green forest. Both she and T’lara felt a little more breathless than usual after jumping between, but at first T’lara put it down to the emotional state she’d been in at the time. Later, she realised that was not the case. 

Circling around, Omath suddenly reported a problem only her dragon eyes could see. A group of people was being attacked by creatures like large canines. T’lara didn’t know why she’d grabbed Firestone on her way to mount Omath, but she had, and now she fed her green in the manner long established. Winging in, Omath belched flame at the canine like creatures who fled before her fire, and then, once satisfied, settled on the ground to await the small men she had aided,

‘Desist,’ T’lara called. ‘My dragon and l mean you no harm.’

Suspiciously, one of the men offered, ‘aye, they did kill quite a few Orcs and Wargs.’

Taller armed men on runner beasts surrounded Omath and T’lara. ‘Peace’ shouted T’lara, seeing the strung bows with arrows knocked. ‘We are friends, neither myself nor my dragon will harm anyone.’ Oddly, in remote holds early in her service as a dragonrider, she, and others, had flown into holds so distant and far from weyrs they’d forgotten dragons. Now, those experiences took over as she raised her hands in a posture of surrender.

A tall man rode forward on an equally impressive runner beast. ‘You control this dragon?’

‘Yes, she is mine and does as l say, unless you attack me she is no threat to you. I am T’lara, Green Rider of Bendan Weyr. My dragon is Omath.’

‘I have not heard of these things…Lady?’ A dark haired man with strangely pointed ears asked. ‘Nor of friendly dragons. I fear you must be far from home.’

T’lara nodded, ‘l am a woman, perhaps this conversation would be easier if l dismounted, Lord..’

‘Elrond, my lady. Dismount your beast if you wish.’

So T’lara slid down Omath’s shoulder, smiling at the people around her, ‘see, l really am just a woman, no arms except my belt knife,’ but she allowed one of group she and Omath had aided to search her for hidden armaments. The fellow stood a little taller than her and wore tattoos on his bald head, and to T’lara the most memorable feature of this person was his beard. In fact most of the short men wore massive beards and long hair. 

‘She’s clear, only the belt knife as she said.’ The bald one reported to another who seemed to be the leader of the small men.

Elrond watched, observing the rider was simply a small woman of the Race of Men, and an older woman then he’d first thought. Except for a few small scars on her face, and for her age seemingly very fit and strong, she was an ordinary looking person, although he was surprised by her strange garb and the huge dragon that answered to her.

‘So, my Lord, who are you weyr bound to?’ T’lara enquired

Elrond managed to look confused and extremely curious both at once. ‘Weyr bound, lady? What does that mean?’ 

T’lara sighed to herself. Could she be in an interval so long people had forgotten Thread and dragons? Could she be somehow in the threadfree future of Pern?’

‘Who flys Thread for you?’ she asked, simplifying the question as much as possible.

‘Thread, my lady?’

‘Yes, Thread, airborne organism, burns and destroys any organic matter it touches.’

‘We have no knowledge of this Thread, my dear,’ said one of the short men, with short white hair and a long snow white beard.

‘AIVAS was right, then, Pern is Thread free in the future,’ T’lara said out loud but really to herself. 

‘Pern? Is that a place?’ inquired the same snowy haired man as before.

Slowly T’lara looked around at the men surrounding her and Omath. There was the group of short hairy men who included one truly tiny chap with bare hairy feet? The she noticed Elrond was not the only tall fellow with pointy ears, they all had them. 

Omath spoke to her Rider, ‘l think we are a long way from our Weyr..’

T’lara answered her aloud, ‘yes dear heart, a long way from our Weyr, wherever we are.’

It was Elrond who answered, ‘in the valley of Rivendell, in Middle-earth.’

‘Middle-earth!!’ T’lara staggered back against her dragon, who crooned comfortingly to her distressed rider.

‘Perhaps Lady T’lara and her dragon would be better able to tell of their full circumstances over the dinner table,’ suggested another pointy eared man.

‘My dragon won’t need to feed today, but is it possible to bathe her in your river? She will need to have the smell of firestone washed off and be oiled.’

‘Oiled?’ 

‘Yes, otherwise her hide might be damaged, and that is dangerous between.’

‘Between what and where?’ A golden haired pointy eared man asked.

‘Here and there,’T’lara tried to explain. How had AIVAS put it. She finally remembered the intelligent machine’s word. ‘Teleport, is l think, the proper term. Dragons can go from one place to another almost instantly. The space between places is called between. Young dragons and their riders must learn how to do this safely. It is one thing l would’ve trained my weyrlings in, as their master.’

As everyone continued to look confused, or sceptical, ‘long ago, my ancestors used special breeding techniques to create dragons from a smaller creature called a fire lizard. The dragons have all the abilities of the fire lizards, enhanced. One is going between, space and time too. Another is breathing fire after chewing firestone. The third is imprinting on a human at Hatching, we call it impression. The bond created allows the rider to command the dragon in flight, l can ask Omath to take me there’,..she pointed to a hillside on the farther side of the valley.

‘I am afraid l will have ask you to stay right here,’ stated Elrond. ‘Your actions so far seem friendly, but we know so little of you, or your beast. If she really can travel instantly, surely she can do it without you astride her.’

‘Not usually, it is rare for a dragon to go between without a rider, it is something only more experienced pairs do, what do you think love, will you go there,’ T’lara pointed again to the far side of the valley, ‘and back again without me?’

Omath grumbled, ‘they keep you hostage for my good behaviour, but l will go to where you ask and back.’

The big green unfurled her wings and leaped strongly upwards into clear air. For a moment she seemed to hover, motionless in the sky, then she blinked out, reappearing in the sky over the far side of the valley, once again hovering for an instant before blinking out again to appear in the sky above her rider’s head before gently lighting down next to T’lara.

Calmly T’lara waited. Then an old man in grey robes and a pointed hat spoke from where he stood, leaning on a staff to the side of the group. He had been silent, but now spoke, ‘We would all be better able to tell of circumstances over the dinner table.’ This was the second suggestion of hospitality. 

T’lara realised she was as good as a prisoner. Omath offered to free her, but T’lara felt that an attempt by Omath to rescue her might easily result in one of them getting hurt. ‘Let’s just go along with these people for now, and rescue ourselves later if we need to.’ Omath grumbled, but obeyed her Rider, flying lazy circles over the group of people walking towards the incredibly beautiful buildings which seemed to spring out of rock, and yet be part of the gardens and waterfalls. 

In the gardens, T’lara persisted, ‘no dragonrider would take of their needs before their dragon. Omath needs bathing and oiling.’

‘What of food?’

‘Not for a day or two.’

Then to T’lara relief, she allowed the use of a couple of long handled brushes, one, she used to scrub Omath in the river as she’d asked. The second one, softer, she used to oil Omath with a strange oil, an unusual smell of flowers to it but it worked to oil Omath throughly. 

Wet and filthy with oil and smelling of Firestone, T’lara’s dilemma was how to get fed and clean herself. Omath had curled up comfortably enough on a green lawn, taking great care not to gouge it up with her sharp talons, which although retractable, could still, with their points, damage the grass.

Exhausted T’lara stood by her dragon, scratching her eye ridges. A tall dark haired woman appeared, with two other pale haired women in tow. ‘Lady T’lara? I am Arwen, Lord Elrond’s daughter. Would you care to bathe?’

‘Would l ever!’ T’lara was enthusiastic at the thought if being clean. ‘I don’t have any clean clothes though.’

‘We will loan you some until your gear is cleaned. I’m sure we can find a riding outfit to suit, l can see why you wear men’s things with needing to get aloft your dragon at any time.’

There was a question there, one that T’lara wasn’t going to answer yet. ‘Thank you,’ she smiled, ‘that would be lovely.’

Now, T’lara hadn’t been a dragon rider for four decades to be slow in getting clean or dressed. It was early evening with the moon just rising..wait, one moon? Suddenly the green rider felt faint, and looked for a place to sit.

Balin was just to sit at the table with Gandalf and Thorin as special guests of Elrond’s when he saw the lady dragonrider stagger suddenly. Without thinking Balin offered the distraught woman his arm to lean on. Older than most of the Company he might be, Balin was what he was, a strong and sturdy dwarf, so the slight woman was no burden to support on their way to the main table at which they were expected. 

‘Are you well, dragonrider?’ Elrond asked the shaking ashen faced woman who Balin was carefully assisting to a chair. ‘If you are unwell, l am a healer..’

‘I am perfectly well, thank you, l just had a nasty shock.’ She hesitated, ‘ l know now l’m not really on Pern anymore with only one moon in the sky.’

A glass appeared in front of her, clearly with strong spirits in it. Thank a good day’s flying for that! It was some sort whiskey, and very strong at that, but after a few tentative sips she felt a bit better. At least, with Omath here she was not alone. 

‘My dear, perhaps you ought to tell us how you got here?’ It was the fellow in the strange and weird robes.. Gandalf. Odd name, but everything was odd. Taking a deep breath, and another sip of whiskey, T’lara began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying this so far.


	3. Dinner with dragons..sort of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More on T’lara, plus what are Dwarves??? Where on Pern, or not, is she?
> 
> Have so far forgotten to say l don’t own the Hobbit, or Dragonriders of Pern, just playing with a muse!

‘Well, it was Hatching day for Leth’s clutch. Leth is a gold dragon, a queen, my Omath’s clutch sister. Only the golden queens lay eggs. I was Weyrling Master, tasked with presenting the candidates for Impression that day. You see, at Hatching a young dragon forms an unbreakable bond, mentally, emotionally and spiritually with one person.’

‘What happens if that bond doesn’t form?’ inquired Elrond gently.

‘If there is no suitable person, the young dragon suicides. He, or she, goes between forever. If a dragon’s rider dies, the dragon also goes between.The only exception is a queen with eggs on the Hatching sands, who will stay until the eggs hatch. Before you ask, it is possible for a Rider to survive a dragon’s death but most don’t.’

Another sip of whiskey. ‘So, all went well, Leth’s eggs hatched as they should, and her Rider, Petra, was pleased with the Candidates. Then, after the actual Hatching of course, you have to deal with the disappointed candidates and their families, plus getting into the new rider’s heads that letting their dragons eat till they pass out is not actually a good idea, then you need to get everyone home or into bed. Luckily, l’d helped B’rant, the Weyrling Master before me often enough l had some clue about these things.’

Before anyone could ask, T’lara went on, ‘and no, B’rant didn’t retire.. he died.’

‘How.’ The abrupt dark haired fellow T’lara now knew was called Thorin spoke. 

‘In Threadfall. The last group of Weyrlings were due to pass out, to ride Fall as true dragonriders, not just flying in Firestone or running messages. It was a nice day, the Fall was light, there was little wind. F’lar, the Weyrleader, made a decision to let the Weyrlings fly Thread, most of them in my wing, as we were wing light due to injuries from a previous Fall.’

T’lara paused again, but there were no questions. ‘Omath and l, we rode the first two quarters, and rested the third. Blue and green dragons don’t fight a full Fall as they don’t have the stamina of the browns and bronzes. Omath and l were back on duty in the last quarter which is when B’rant and the weyrlings came in to. Fall was light, and the Thread was clumping nicely, easy to flame, not falling in large sheets, which are difficult and dangerous. There was little wind too, till a swirling wind came suddenly through…’

‘Are you alright, lass,’ asked a gruff voice, and T’lara was startled to feel a large hand close over hers. She blotted her eyes on her shirt sleeve, her eyes stinging with tears. ‘Mmm, it’s mostly Omath’s emotions l am feeling. Greens are emotional creatures, well all dragons are, but greens more so.’

She hesitated, and decided a tiny drop of humour wouldn’t hurt. Turning to Balin, she managed a small smile, ‘it’s been decades since anyone called me a lass.’

It was Elrond who gently answered, ‘lady dragonrider, we are all older than you can presently understand, please,’ he said, ‘have some food as you continue your tale.’

T’lara instead took another sip of whiskey and went on ‘the young dragons couldn’t stand up to the wind, blown about they were in danger of being Thread bared, as even as l and Omath tried to respond, there was one who beat us’, again she wiped tears from her eyes. 

‘B’rant and Tulth, dove on Thread like a green. Wings flat to Tulth’s back, screaming. We, me and Omath, were a heart beat behind, close enough to enough to order the two young blues between and shield them with Omath’s flame, but not close enough to save B’rant and Tulth..they were cruelly scored, and went..between..forever. The two lads and me, we led the wild mourning that night. Blue and green riders are known for the frenzied dancing and heavy drinking that follows a dragon’s death, you see.’

Again, T’lara dried her tears. ‘I was appointed Weyrling Master some three months later. Five weeks after that, Leth’s eggs hatched. It was an exhausting day, organising all the Candidates and their families, running after the newly hatched dragons. Once we’d gotten everyone settled for the night, Omath and l decided to take a late night flight to clear our heads. To a forest we knew, for Omath to night hunt some wild herd beasts. Well, we must’ve been more tired and stressed than we knew. I would’ve just about skinned alive any weyrling who made the mistake of sloppy visualisation before going between.

Next thing we were here and we saw Thorin’s people in trouble. I didn’t even have to ask Omath to help, she demanded Firestone to flame the giant canines.’

‘You speak of strange things, T’lara. Contractions of names, Firestone, visualisation and Thread. All l know is, if this Thread kills so easily, you must be very brave indeed to have battled it for so many years of your life.’

‘Dragon men must fly when Thread is in the sky,’ T’lara quoted as she finished the glass of whiskey. ‘I don’t think l’m any braver than anyone else.’

‘You gave us quite a fright, appearing the way you did, on great, flaming green dragon,’ commented Gandalf.

‘You should eat, T’lara,’ Elrond returned to the conversation. 

Suddenly, the greenrider realised she was hungry. Salad, bread and cheese soon filled her plate and Balin refilled her glass, this time with a very nice crisp white wine.

Thorin had said nothing, merely observing the strange woman. ‘Tell her of Smaug, Balin,’ he eventually asked his advisor, not wishing to talk, but to continue to watch her reactions. 

‘Dragons, lass. Well, here, they’re not good things at all. Nor do they have riders and serve the needs of people. Here, they’re creatures of evil. A hundred and seventy years ago a dragon took our home from us. Of the Company who were there, only Thorin and myself are old to remember Smaug’s coming. He came for King Thror’s treasure, and he destroyed Dale and Erebor, and killed and ate many men and dwarves,’ said Balin, quite grimly.

Her mind on the excellent food, and one eye and one ear on Omath, T’lara didn’t at first register that Balin said he and Thorin were nearly 200 turns old? And what in Thread’s name was a dwarf?

Putting down her fork, her eyes wide, T’lara asked in amazement, ‘what’s a dwarf? And you don’t seriously expect me to believe you two are nearly 200!’

‘Remember l said earlier we here are all much older that you would think,’ remarked Elrond.

Confused, T’lara looked in her dragon’s direction, and as she did so, a golden haired man of breathtaking beauty sat down, ‘he’s telling the truth, T’lara. I am Glorfindel, he managed to bow, seated. Elrond, like myself, is an Elf. Elves are immortal, as is Gandalf, who is a Wizard. Our smaller companions are Dwarves. They live for more than 200 years. Mr. Baggins is a Hobbit. They usually live for a hundred or so years.’

T’lara shook her head, then her gentle humour came through again, ‘l must seem like a child to you all at a mere 64 years!’

‘Not at all,’ it was Balin who spoke, ‘we know you are a mature woman of the Race of Men, before you ask it is clearly the type of person you are.’

At this stage of the evening, Omath decided she’d had enough. Picking her way past the table of out of control dwarves, who were throwing food, singing silly or dirty songs, holding drinking contests and dancing on the table tops, the green dragon dropped her head onto the table next to her Rider. Cross, Omath bespoke everyone at the table who fell quiet on hearing the dragon’s forceful words in their heads, ‘enough! Neither my Rider or myself are Hatchlings, nor do we mean you harm! If l wished, l could set this whole valley aflame in a few minutes, but all l really want is some rest for my Rider, and some bread and butter, please T’lara.’

‘Bread and butter!’ an astonished wizard exclaimed.

‘Omath likes it when she is distressed,’ T’lara explained. 

‘The dragon is right,’ said a dark haired man out of the darkness, ‘she could’ve killed us all if she wished, instead she gave aid. How much bread do you require, Lady Dragon?’

Omath considered, ‘as much as you can carry, please.’

The man bowed, and disappeared, ‘Well, that’s different,’ drawled Glorfindel, ‘a Feanorian doing anything at another’s request.’

T’lara didn’t know what to make of this so addressed herself again to her plate. Balin kept filling it, to her confusion, and finally Thorin enlightened her, ‘dwarves look after women, we have few, less than a third of our number, so ladies are always cared for.’

The dark haired man, no elf, T’lara realised, soon returnd carrying a large bag of bread loaves. Carefully he held a loaf to the green dragon who all but wriggled with pleasure, ‘oh this is good bread!’ she enthused to her Rider.

‘This will be better’, the dark haired elf remarked, giving the dragon two loaves he’d split and buttered.

‘My Rider should have some,’ Omath said, giving the people who sat at the table her huge head still dominated a meaningful look. Suddenly everyone found themselves eating bread and butter.

‘I should’ve warned you, that’s another ability of dragons. It doesn’t work if you’re aware and ready, but they can influence people’s behaviour,’ T’lara grinned.

‘What else do dragons do beside flame this Thread, and influence people?’ asked Thorin. 

‘Keep wild beasts under control either by hunting them. We would skin out the large felines and sell their tanned hides at Gathers, the herd beasts the dragons would eat. Cartage of goods, or people. Generally getting about Pern and checking all the small holdings were alright, running messages for healers and harpers. Assisting in natural disasters like floods, Omath is particularly good at pulling people from the water. Dragonriders would be posted to the major holds especially just prior to Threadfall, we were not meant to be used as private transport, but on occasion we would move Lords Holder or Craft Masters about during emergencies or to important meetings. I often did this latter duty; as a Lord Holder’s daughter l was trained in the proper protocols and etiquette of such meetings.’

‘You did diplomatic work too, lass,’ Balin looked impressed. ‘You must’ve lead a busy life!’

‘Yes, l did. Any spare time was filled attending to Omath, or keeping myself fit and weapons training.’

Thorin looked up sharply. ‘You have weapons training?’

‘Of course! All dragonriders run, swim, wrestle and do armed and unarmed combat.’

‘What weapons?’

‘Principally knives, but we do sword work and archery.’

‘Something to think on then, Thorin’, offered Balin.

T’lara looked at Balin curiously. ‘Thorin is a renowned warrior, as is my brother, Dwalin. I have a feeling they would like to test your skills tomorrow.’

‘Better get some rest then’, T’lara’s eyes twinkled. She intended to spend the warm evening curled up by Omath, who would keep her warm and comfortable in this land with no weyrs. 

This plan was wreaked by the arrival of a small dark haired boy; T’lara watched as he hurtled out of the darkness, throwing himself into Elrond’s arms just as her son used to do with her.

‘Please, Father, can l ride the dragon?’ the boy asked.

Pernese character list.

T’lara, born Telara of Fort Hold, youngest daughter of Lord Groghe. Married off at sixteen, to Jase, minor Holder of a runner beast hold. Telara lost several babies to miscarriage before seeking the Master Healers aid. In her twenty second turn, heavily pregnant, she was Searched for a Hatching at Bendan, to stand for the queen egg, yet another girl, Petra, Impressed gold Leth. Telara Impressed green Omath, becoming T’lara. She gave birth to her only child, Ricor, two months later. Her husband denounced her as a whore for accepting search, and as search invalidated a marriage he married again, an unfortunate girl who gave him three daughters before perishing in childbirth, the babe with her. 

Jase, T’lara’s former husband, more of him in future chapters. 

Ricor, T’lara’s son. Now R’cor, rider of brown Zooth, wingsecond and Weyr Singer.

Nandi, R’cor’s weyrmate, Mother of his two children, Eaith and Bidor.

Petra, Rider of gold Leth, Omath’s clutch sister. Because they were the only two female riders of female dragons that clutch they trained a lot together and became fast friends.

B’rant, Weyrling Master, Rider of brown Tulth, and as good as T’lara’s weyrmate. T’lara regarded him as a good and close friend, someone to be trusted. The didn’t become Weyrmates due to T’lara’s reluctance to want any man that close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omath’s being able to influence the other people at the dinner table is canon, Anne hints at how dragons and some of the riders (Lessa is one, she can even influence other dragonriders) can control the actions of other people. This is mentioned several times particularly in the early books. 
> 
> Next chapter, T’lara and Omath take two people for an unexpected ride over the Valley of Rivendell.


	4. Night flight over Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is says on the tin...

‘Tonight?’ Elrond asked.

‘Yes, please!’ the child pleaded.

‘Perhaps Omath is too tired to fly tonight? Elrond teased.

‘Or too full of bread,’ suggested Glorfindel.

Omath began to huff indignantly. ‘I can always fly!’ she complained to her Rider. 

‘Yes, but maybe the lad’s parents won’t be too happy for him to go flying at night,’ pointed out T’lara.

‘Estel is my name, lady dragonrider. My mother won’t stop me going riding on a dragon, l am sure.’

‘And l am equally sure your mother would have a fit!’ replied T’lara, laughing.

A dark haired woman walked to the boy’s side. ‘I am Gilraen, Estel’s Mother, my lady, and l don’t think it is a good thing to go night riding on a dragon.’

‘Mother is just fussy because there is a bad history of things happening at night to our relatives.’

‘With just cause, Estel,’ Elrond reminded him as he turned to T’lara, ‘please don’t be annoyed with my foster son, he often forgets that what he wishes to do does not always fall in with others wishes.’

T’lara’s heart, however, had already melted at how much the lad reminded her of her own son at the same age. ‘Well, Estel, your mother said no, and l have to respect her wishes.’

The child’s face fell. Then to T’lara’s surprise, kind Balin spoke up. ‘What if someone else went first, Lady Gilraen, to see if it was safe for the boy to follow. Assuming Lady T’lara and Lady Omath are willing.’

‘But who would dare this?’ mused Elrond.

Balin didn’t know why he spoke up, ‘l would.’

Thorin nearly dropped his glass, normally his advisor was as careful and controlled as himself. In this Balin was showing some of his brother’s instant action, not a thing Balin usually did.

‘Omath is willing to fly up the river and over the valley and buildings, we wouldn’t go between, just a bit of straight flying, ah, staying in eyesight the whole time.’

Thorin’s eyes flicked to Balin’s. Balin was to do as he wished, but to be aware of possible problems. 

‘So tell me how to mount your dragon, lady,’ requested Balin.

‘I will get up first and make ready the extra fighting straps,’ T’lara explained. ‘Do you have gloves you can wear, and best put your jacket on, it will be quite cold up there even in this warm weather, she explained as she fastened her weyrhide flying jacket, and pulled on her helmet, before climbing onto Omath’s extended foreleg, and from there walking up the dragon’s side to the rider’s place on the dragon’s neck. 

‘Come on, Balin, copy me!’T’lara laughed. Grumbling slightly, the dwarf did so and sat behind T’lara waiting as she placed the spare fighting straps all dragon riders carried for passengers around him, effectively buckling him to Omath’s harness.

‘See, no way you can fall off, but if you like, you can put your hands through my belt and harness, or simply hang to me, whichever you like. I will be giving Omath verbal directions that you can hear, it’s normal procedure when carrying passengers.’

About now Balin started to wonder what he was doing, honestly he was behaving as recklessly as Kili! Or his brother Dwalin, when Dwalin was much younger. As he heard T’lara’s command to Omath to lift off, and the dragon’s rumble of compliance, he leaned into T’lara, instinctively holding on to the human woman as Omath’s powerful hind legs launched her skywards, and the green opened her huge, fragile seeming wings to sweep downwards, hurling herself strongly upwards. 

High up Omath winged, then hovered over top of the Rivendell gardens, clearly getting her bearings. Then she swept her green, great wings and shot through the air, following the river, before soaring suddenly upwards. Those watching below could now see nothing but Omath’s eyes glowing high, high up in the sky. 

Then the green dragon dove, straight down, then up the river and across the gardens, before pulling up skywards again at tremendous speed. Then she hovered again before repeating the aerial display. Finally, Omath landed back in the gardens, near to the dwarves, who had ceased their out of control behaviour, instead, watching Omath’s aerial antics closely.

Dwalin suddenly realised his brother was up on the dragon and strode quickly over, remarkably sober for someone who’d been drinking wine from an ale tankard. To his surprise, Balin was looking remarkably comfortable with the lady dragonrider, laughing with her, his dark Dwarf eyes sparkling in a way they hadn’t for years. 

‘Do you want a ride too? The annoying female asked, her short silver hair a cloud around her face, poking out from under the leather flying helmet. Now, flying on the dragon was not Dwalin’s idea of a good time, but he’d shave off his beard before letting his older brother do something he was frankly afraid of.

‘Aye, l will,’ the bald dwarf answered, hoping he wouldn’t bitterly regret this choice. The blasted woman dropped a leather strap down the dragon’s side as he climbed onto the beastie’s foreleg. Gripping it more tightly than he probably needed to, he began to climb up the dragon’s side to reach his brother. 

The lass grabbed his hand in a surprisingly strong grasp to help him up the last of the way, behind Balin, who showed Dwalin how to attach the riding straps to himself. 

‘Hang on little brother,’ Balin teased, and he found himself doing just that as the dragon again launched skywards.

It had been many years since Dwalin had felt so uncomfortable in any given situation, but the way the dragon moved through the air was unnerving as she had a terrifying habit of suddenly dropping several feet in height without warning. The silver haired rider insisted gently it was just air currents, and they could lift the dragon just as easily as drop her..and Mahal’s beard, the woman was right!

After a short flight alone the river’s path, the dragon overflew the forest, and her flight levelled. Dwalin let go slightly on the death grip he had on his brother oh Mahal, he knew Balin would never let him live this down. 

The swooped, turning sharply left and in a very few minutes of flight they were back over the gardens again and Omath’s wings were high above her as she broke her air speed to land lightly. 

Estel was still working on his mother, ‘but, Mother, the dwarves are fine! Pleeasse..’ the boy pleaded. 

‘Perhaps just a short flight, then,’ Gilraen agreed. ‘But put on your thick jacket, and gloves, and a scarf, and get your knitted hat,’ she called after the boy as he pelted off, taking the stairs two at a time in his haste to collect his extra clothing. 

As T’lara had made no move to let the dwarf brothers down, Balin and Dwalin were stuck there, Balin seeming happy enough, Dwalin scowling. In no time at all, Estel was back, shoving his gloved hands through the jacket sleeves, as his mother fussed over the hat and scarf.

‘Ready,’ the boy called to T’lara, who lowered a riding strap for him to use once he stepped up off Omath’s foreleg. As he started to walk up her shoulder, he said, ‘oh, lady dragon, my boots aren’t hurting your skin?’

Luckily T’lara already had hold of Estel’s hand when Omath chose to answer the boy directly, ‘your boots aren’t hurting my hide, young one.’

Startled, Estel didn’t object when T’lara sat him in front of her, again securing her passenger with fighting straps and instructing the lad to hold on tight to Omath’s neck ridge. As this was happening, Estel asked in an awestruck tone, ‘was that really Omath speaking to me?’

‘Yes. Dragons may speak to anyone they please, they just don’t so often.’

‘Are we going flying now?’ asked Omath in a wistful tone.

‘Yes, dearest, we will fly now’; T’lara gave Omath the verbal order to take off. 

Estel’s eyes widened as Omath sprang skywards and flew high upwards. The Moon was rising, and for a few minutes Omath hovered, enjoying the sight, unaware the people below were enjoying the breath taking sight of the dragon silhouetted against the moon before Omath shot upwards, turned hard and dove at the river bed before pulling up hard and, as before, following the river for some distance, then in another spectacular dive, came down low over the gardens, so low Estel’s excited squeals could be clearly heard. 

After a few more low flying displays that had the mortal boy whooping in delight, Omath neatly landed. Unbuckled, Estel slid down the fighting strap to run straight to his mother, talking fast about the wonder of the dragon ride. 

Also unbuckled, Balin and Dwalin followed at a more decorous speed, then T’lara dismounted last. Nodding to the dwarf brothers, she turned to unharness Omath and found both Balin and Dwalin unbuckling the straps. 

‘Let us do this, lass, l believe the little lad’s mother wants to speak to you. T’lara turned to Gilraen who thanked her profusely, ‘it’s hard for Estel, here, sometimes, being the only child here. He gets lonely, but that dragon ride! Now that is a thing that he’ll cherish.’

T’lara smiled broadly, this reaction children had to a dragon ride was something that always made her happy. ‘I’m sure your son would be Searched for a Rider in my home, l do believe he’d make bronze rider, with the chance of being a Weyrleader one day. ‘

‘How do you know this so quickly of Estel?’ Gilraen asked, her grey eyes wide with wonder. 

‘I didn’t, Omath knew.’

‘Do dragons always know?’

‘Search dragons do, mostly they are the male dragons, the blues and browns, sometimes bronzes. Occasionally, a green. Of course l was Searched by the greatest Search dragon ever, brown Canth, and we saw a lot of him in our training, perhaps it rubbed off on Omath? Of course any dragon can Search anyone at anytime. You can not refuse Search, the only possibility is a boy whose father is training him to take over as Lord Holder. That happened to my oldest brother, Beale, he never forgave Father, but came to terms with it turns later when two of his children became Riders at Fort Weyr.’ 

Gilraen looked suddenly troubled as Omath bespoke her Rider. ‘It’s alright, Omath can sense Estel is one who would have to refuse Search, as a Rider and one born a Lady of high standing, l know to pry no more, not to tell people of what l have learned,’ T’lara said softly.

More loudly she spoke to Balin when he laid his hand on her slim shoulder, ‘where shall we put Omath’s harness, lass?’ 

T’lara looked to Gilraen, ‘Perhaps here, on the stone railing?’

‘Yes, then l can check it over tomorrow, properly,’ T’lara was surprised by Balin, Dwalin, Estel and Gilraen helping her hang the leather harness. 

Finished, T’lara turned to thank her helpers, only to find Dwalin had vanished, and Gilraen was taking her son off to bed, so only Balin was left. 

He was watching her closely, as she stood by her dragon, looking slightly lost. ‘Come, lass, back to the others..or not?’he questioned, taking a look at the partying dwarves. 

T’lara snorted. ‘That’s not a party! No one’s in the river yet, and they’re still wearing all their clothes.’

‘Alright then lass, between me and Dwalin, we’ll keep an eye on you.’ After a few glasses of wine, and some more food, T’lara decided to go curl up by Omath for the night. Tired from a weird day, she was soon asleep and never felt the blanket dropped across her. As the kind dwarf moved off straight away, Omath, who had opened one eye a crack, watched as Balin left. She didn’t disturb or speak to her exhausted rider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter or so, we will find out Dwalin really thought of riding that blasted dragon.


	5. To Hunt a Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T’lara takes Omath hunting with some help. Omath decides deer are delicious.

The next morning T’lara was woken by birdsong, yes, they had birds on Pern, but not those that hung about in gardens singing so sweetly. 

Using Omath to climb up, she took her time to straighten up carefully. Fardles! She felt about 600 this morning. And hungry. Best look for some breakfast, she decided after running her fingers through her short silver locks. 

She walked across the lawn, heading for the nearest building, telling Omath to go back to sleep, that she, T’lara, would be back later. As she entered the building, she saw the kind dwarf, Balin. 

‘Do you happen to know where a lass,’ she winked at him, ‘might find the necessary and some breakfast.’

Despite never having heard bathroom facilities being the called the necessary, Balin had no difficulty working out what T’lara wanted. ‘The next door on the left, dragon lady. I will wait here, and escort you to breakfast.’

T’lara found the cosy room much more than where you went to relieve yourself. In consequence, she able to wash her face and hands, comb her unruly hair and straighten up her clothes quite nicely. Feeling considerably better she strode back to Balin, her boot heels clinking on the flooring. 

The dwarf surprised her by offering her his left arm, and her training as a Lord Holder’s daughter slipped into place, as her right hand slipped into his elbow.

‘Did you sleep well, lady?’

‘Lady today, last night, lass,’ she grinned. 

‘Yes, after that dragon ride!’

T’lara gave a soft laugh, ‘Omath will need feeding after all of that, fancy another ride?’ she challenged as Balin handed her to a seat at a table filled with food, porridge, toast, eggs, and fried vegetables. 

T’lara filled a bowl with porridge and added some toast on the side, allowing the food here was amazing. Chewing in contentment, she promised Omath she too, would be fed soon. 

Balin again sat next to her, and she smiled at him, only to have her breakfast interrupted by Dwalin dropping into the chair next to her, well crashing into really so hard that it was a wonder he hadn’t broken it.

It was clear the huge dwarf had a massive hangover. In a mischievous mood, T’lara bid him good morning. ‘I’m going to ask Lord Elrond where l can take Omath hunting later this morning, care to come along Dwalin?’

The warrior turned a rather interesting shade of green. From further down the table Thorin looked up sharply, ‘hunt your dragon?’

‘Yes, Omath is hungry today. I’m hoping I can be directed to somewhere we can hunt some wild animals, Omath could probably eat three or four large herd beast sized animals, ah, sorry, cattle. Perhaps we could bring some back to contribute to Rivendell’s supplies.’

‘In case you haven’t noticed, the elves don’t eat meat,’ commented another silver haired dwarf, with an intricately braided beard. 

‘Dori?’ The dwarf nodded, ‘Yes, but Estel said that was just yesterday for a special feast.’

‘Best take one of the elves, lass. They’ll know where you can find deer, maybe. Me, l’ll be on the training ground early afternoon, and Thorin wants ya there, T’lara,’ Dwalin cut in.

‘Why?’

‘Because l told him you have unnatural strength.’ Dwalin, having managed to eat a little porridge was looking slightly better. 

‘Oh that! That was Omath, lending me some strength once l realised how heavy you are.’

Dwalin grunted, ‘still need to check ya skills.’

‘Why? I’m not under Thorin’s command.’

‘You might be useful, you and Omath.’

‘Against Smaug? I guess we might be, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘Besides that, Thorin doesn’t feel happy about anyone who knows anything of our quest running around loose in the world,’ Balin explained. ‘I believe he’s going to offer you and Omath contracts to join our Company.’

‘Oh!’ T’lara thought hard. ‘Omath too? Dragons forget things all the time, you know.’

‘But you’ll remind her.’ Balin seemed quite certain. 

‘So we’re being contracted to fight this Smaug?’

‘Yes, l think that’s the idea.’

‘Shells and Shards!! How big is this dragon?’

‘Last seen, no bigger than Omath,’ replied Dwalin, having finished a tankard of ale he seemed to be back to normal. ‘And she can go beyond or whatever, a distinct tactical advantage.’

‘Between, she goes between,’ T’lara corrected. 

‘And Thorin and Balin says his flame is not as great as Omath’s,’ and Balin nodded along with his brother. 

‘My fear would be running out of Firestone.’

Perhaps our mining folk can help with that,’ answered Balin. ‘It is some sort of coal, l’m sure.’

At the words ‘mining folk’ and ‘coal’ Bofur, also apparently nursing a hangover, looked up. ‘I’ll take a look, later, T’lara’, he offered, and Bifur nodded, including himself in the task. 

‘That would be very kind of you,’ T’lara smiled. ‘It would be best to have about six bags of Firestone, strapped to Omath just in case we need to flame. I take your intentions are to kill this Smaug?’

‘Now That Thorin intends to discuss with you tonight, along with the terms of the contract to be offered,’ put in Balin.

‘Alright! I will find out about going hunting then.’

Finished with her breakfast, T’lara was just heading off to find Lord Elrond, when the gorgeous blond elf from the night before seemed to just appear before her, almost like a dragon coming out of between. 

‘Good morning, Glorfindel.

‘And good morning to you, dragonrider, l believe you wish to take your beast hunting?’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Pointed ears aren’t just pretty, dear lady, they give you extra good hearing!’

‘Really? Eavesdropping doesn’t sort of seem in keeping with immortality.’

Glorfindel laughed quite a lot at that, ‘l simply meant l could your speech at a far greater distance than you would think! It’s how elves keep up with the gossip. Would you care for me to come with you? I know where suitable animals are for your dragon to hunt.’

‘Ah, right, so this wouldn’t be your way of asking for a dragon ride?’

‘It might be,’ the Elf smiled widely, ‘of course it could be Estel is begging for another dragon ride, and his mother asked me to go with you.’

‘If we take Estel with us, well, dragons are notoriously messy eaters. Some people have been sick watching.’

‘I don’t think that will be a problem. Estel has been hunting before, and he is at that age when small boys are a bit fascinated by blood and gore.’

‘Alright, half an hour enough time? Omath is insisting she’s very hungry.’

‘That is her then, that l can hear?’

‘Hmm, Yes, she says this world is filled with people who would make good dragonriders, she was quite a good search dragon.’

Glorfindel didn’t ask what a search dragon was, it seemed more important to get Omath fed. He disappeared up a flight of steps quickly, looking for Estel, and was back ten minutes later as T’lara was just buckling up the last of Omath’s harness. 

‘We brought extra rope in case we do have extra game to bring home,’ said Glorfindel, who, now the moment arrived, seemed as eager as Estel to climb up on Omath. 

‘And sacks to keep the game clean,’ pointed out Estel. He rushed up to Omath and patted her, ‘please get some deer, Omath, l love venison.’

‘Omath says she will, if you will tell her what deer are. Where we come from animals are different.’

‘And why are you our babysitter?’ T’lara turned to the amused looking elf.

‘Because l have an affinity with beasts of fire, my lady.’

T’lara eyebrows raised. Clearly this elf was holding something back yet Omath sensed nothing sinister. 

‘Ready then? Alright, Estel you know how to mount Omath as a passenger, so why don’t you show Glorfindel once I’m up?’

It didn’t take long for all to mount up, Estel in front of T’lara the same as the night before, with tall Glorfindel behind. It was a beautiful morning and Omath bugled happily as she launched into the warm air. 

A few minutes of straight flying brought them to an opening in the forest, lush green grass was being grazed by large beasts with many pronged horns that Estel confirmed were deer. 

Landing carefully on rock outcrop nearby, Omath waited as her riders dismounted. ‘I will kill several animals quickly, and bring them up here for you to cut up as you like. I can eat while you do this.’

T’lara agreed, telling her companions of the plan. ‘Now you will see something very few outside of Weyr folk have seen, a hunting dragon. Omath is a mature experienced dragon, and she will hunt the herd without spooking them. It is also one of the few times you will see a dragon go between without a rider. 

From high up, Omath had appraised the herd. Several large older males were present, she would kill three for herself. Then there were three young males, one of them for the people, plus two older females, probably too old to breed. Six in all. Omath prepared herself to hunt. 

Bursting out of between she snatched an animal so fast the others didn’t really notice. Back up on the rocky outcrop she appeared, dropped a barren female and disappeared again, to reappear moments later with another animal, and so on till she had killed and deposited all six. 

Then Omath started the messy business of dragon feeding. The three people removed the heads and lower limbs from their deer, and Estel delightedly hand feeding those parts to a humming Omath. ‘These deer beasts are delicious,’ she informed her Rider. 

T’lara laughed at her happy dragon’s description as she and Glorfindel finished gutting the deer, and, with Estel’s help they put the deer in clean sacks and hung them from Omath’s sides. All three people mounted up, and T’lara directed Omath between back directly over the buildings of Rivendell, but not before she warned Estel and Glorfindel.

‘It will be very cold and dark. You will not be able to see or hear, nor feel Omath underneath you. It will last to the count of eight, you can trust l will be counting with you. I do this only to spare Omath the burden of flying straight with the extra weight of the deer bodies. I will ask her verbally to transfer us, and you can both help by imagining Rivendell as it we saw it when we left two hours ago, remember the Sun is higher in the sky now, though.’

Omath took off and circled high above the rock outcrop as both Estel and Glorfindel felt the light touch of Omath’s mind, and then T’lara gave the verbal command, ‘keep your visuals strong, l will be too. On the count of three we will go between… Omath, please take us between.’

Estel let out a yelp of surprise as Omath burst into clear air over the buildings of Omath and T’lara could feel Glorfindel was stiff with shock. 

Carefully, Omath landed on a lawn area near the buildings. To T’lara’s surprise it was some of the dwarves who came to help with unloading Omath. Balin and his brother Dwalin, a big dwarf called Bombur and his brother Bofur, their cousin Bifur did a lot of the work of unloading, and of course once Bombur announced he would roast the deer whole, the little fellow, Bilbo, a Hobbit, T’lara remembered, insisted he would help. 

In no time at all the three deer were skinned out and Bombur with Bilbo had taken over one the cooking areas fitted with spits. Glorfindel had shown T’lara were to put the fresh deerskins so other elves could process them for tanning. In return, T’lara was given some leather she might need for fighting strap repairs in the future, plus some leather thonging she wanted to make rope from. 

Then, it was lunchtime and the dwarves insisted she eat with them, Estel having his mother’s permission to share the dwarves table. Glorfindel excused himself, seeming somewhat shaken up over the dragon ride. Or was it that Omath had taken up a mental connection with him, she wondered as she seated herself between Bilbo and Balin for lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glorfindel is a bit in shock at going between and communicating directly with Omath. Even being immortal doesn’t prepare you for that.


	6. Training Grounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On with the day, lunch and training with the Dwarves.

Lunch was nice, soup with fresh bread rolls. Remembering Dwalin wanted to check her fighting skills after lunch, she ate, but not heavily. Later, she could have some of the freshly roasted deer beast and find out what Omath liked so much.

Bifur was gesturing wildly as he spoke in what Balin had told T’lara was a secret Dwarf language. Bofur, as usual, translated for his kinsman. ‘Bifur says he thinks we’ve found some of this Firestone Omath needs. It seems it is a form of lignite, or brown coal but Firestone has a very high sulphur and phosphate content. We will show you after lunch,’ Bofur finished translating. 

T’lara smiled, ‘but after lunch l have to meet Dwalin on the training grounds.’

Bofur pulled a face, ‘aye, he’ll give ye a workout.’

‘After that we can look at the possible firestone.’

‘If you can move, lass,’ put in Balin. ‘My brother will not be easy on you.’

‘Perhaps you can put in a good word for me,’ T’lara asked. 

Balin shook his head, ‘No, l can’t, Dwalin will test you as Thorin commands.’

T’lara sighed, ‘might as well get it over with!’

Once again Balin offered to escort her. It was quite nice being treated as a lady by this kind fellow. As they walked through Rivendell’s lush gardens, Balin asked a few questions. 

‘Omath can lend you strength?’

‘Yes, but it is very specific, it’s more like she gives things a push with her mind, like helping lift your brother last night.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Balin hesitated, but a spirit of mischief he hadn’t felt in years pushed him on, ‘my brother was absolutely terrified by riding Omath, you know. Of course, he would never show it. Just in case you need to know!’

‘Big brother dropping little brother in it, seen that before, oh l have lots of siblings, nineteen of ‘em actually, some of who, being much older then me, have passed on, l will use that piece of information at need.’

‘Dwarves only have small families,’ smiled Balin, ‘two or three children is usual, girls are rare and special.’

‘You mentioned this once before. Does this mean many of your men prefer men?’

Blinking with surprise, and a bit embarrassed Balin answered, ‘ that can happen, mostly Dwarves are just consumed by their craft.’

‘Oh. Sorry for the silly question, it’s just dragon folk tend to be quite open about such matters.’ 

‘Never mind, we’ll speak on this, and certain other matters later,’ Balin patted her hand gently. ‘Now you have to show Thorin and Dwalin what you’re made of,’ he said as they stepped into an open area. 

The Dwarves had, except Balin, clearly been there for some time, as had a group of elves, Two identical ones, clearly twins were making much of duelling with Fili, Kili and Gloin. 

Thorin and Dwalin were sparing, the two had obviously done this many times, Thorin with his elvish sword, and a tree branch for a shield?? And Dwalin twirling his twin axes. 

‘Shards!’ exclaimed T’lara. Both the duelling dwarves had stripped to the waist in the summer heat, and she could see old scars on them both, in fact they both bore the signs of many old wounds. 

‘Yes, they’re both true warriors, my brother and Thorin, but don’t let that fret you, T’lara, you are too, from you have said.’ Balin smiled at her. 

‘But not like that!’ she protested. ‘Would you like to warm up with me?’ Balin asked, ‘l’m not my brother, but l do know one end of a sword from the other.’

T’lara smiled, ‘alright then.’

So that is how T’lara found herself with a practice sword in hand, facing Balin, who proved to be an unexpectedly fierce opponent.

After a few minutes, Dwalin took over from his brother, ‘you’ll wear the lass out on me, otherwise,’ Dwalin roared.

‘Shells, this fellow is half dragon,’ thought T’lara as she parried his blow, luckily not from one of his axes, he too was now using a training sword.

For about a quarter of a time mark they duelled until a blow from Dwalin sent the sword spinning from T’lara’s hand. She threw her hands up in surrender, laughing.

‘You sure are tougher then your brother!’

‘So l should be, Balin’s a scribe and l’m a warrior and guardsman.’ He looked long and hard at T’lara, and his expression softened slightly, ‘you’re quite well trained, lass. What else can you do, with or without your beastie?’

T’lara grinned, ‘the beastie is asleep, so you’ve only me to deal with. No riding Omath, or anything.’

‘Huh!’ Dwalin grunted, ‘If l was meant to fly, l’d have wings.’

‘A pity, that you feel like that, a pity too you weren’t born on Pern. You would’ve made a great bronze rider, and a Weyrleader to be looked up to, that’s high praise on Pern.’

Dwalin grunted again. ‘Prefer the ground here in Middle-earth.’

T’lara grinned, ‘but of course,’ she allowed, ‘yet you can see the tactical advantages of riding a dragon.’ 

Dwalin gave back a grudging smile, ‘well now, we will see what Thorin makes of you.’

It was getting quite warm T’lara realised. To continue with the training, she slipped off her shirt, stripping to her corset as she had times uncounted on the training sands of Bendan Weyr.

Straightaway a deep Dwarven voice; the healer Oin if she was not mistaken. ‘Lass, the scars..’

‘Threadscore. Oh, four turns ago we were badly scored supporting the Queen’s Wing. Omath was out of the air for nearly a full turn and l got a fair bit of body scoring, we’re lucky to have survived.’

Blank looks greeted this statement, and T’lara realised she needed to break down what she’d said. Again.

‘Four..years ago,’ scorch the different word use, she grumbled, ‘the Queens Wing flew light that day, with Ramoth on the Hatching Grounds. Three, instead of four great queens flew below the fighting wings. Queens can’t chew Firestone you see, it makes them sterile, unable to lay eggs. The queen riders use flame throwers and ride a sweep below the fighting wings catching what we miss. Other dragons recovering from injuries fly in the Queens Wing until cleared for full duties. Weyrlings usually fly in the Queens Wing a time or two before fighting Thread, as opposed to running messages or flying in extra firestone.’

All the people on the training grounds seemed happy to take a rest and listen to T’lara. So on she went, ‘Omath and l were asked to fly the fourth place that day, as l was still recovering from an injury received a four sevendays, ah, a month earlier. I had a flamethrower of course, but l didn’t know a Weyrling had snuck Omath some Firestone.’

Oin chimed in, ‘what sort of an injury stops you riding with the fighting wings,’ he asked, obviously curious from his healers view. Once again, T’lara suspected the old healer heard more than he often let on. 

She slapped her left thigh. ‘Leg wound, Oin, riding a fighting dragon can be rather like a ride on a bucking runner..um horse. You need two strong legs.’

Oin nodded, and let T’lara continue, ‘So we flew with the Queens Wing, and with the high, gusting winds, we had plenty to do, l can tell you. Everything was going well, until a big patch came through, Leth asked Omath to break formation to pursue it, that made sense as she’s a lot quicker in the air than a queen.

Down we went, towards ground, to come up under the Thread, to allow the Flamethrower the best pattern to flame. Unfortunately Omath instinctively flamed, and l couldn’t use the Flamethrower to best effect. A gout of Thread fell across Omath’s right wing and across my right arm and shoulder. 

Of course, we went between immediately for the extreme cold to kill Thread. Bursting back into clear air, we were then ordered back to the Weyr by Petra, who led the Queens Wing that day.

Actually, the pain was incredible, and we got back to the Weyr using our emergency visuals, and Omath flying on one wing. Ramoth actually left her clutch to land us, coming up underneath Omath to lend support on her crippled side, to land us as the huge queens are trained to do.

I fell from Omath’s neck , unconscious, my fighting straps shredded by Thread, and a blue Weyrling, in an incredible feat of agility caught me just in time. Omath and l were placed on the floor of the Weyr. The healers went to work, and quickly covered us both in numb weed. I woke in my Weyr, my granddaughter by my side, and Omath cross because her wing was in a sling.’

‘Lass, you must’ve come very near to death indeed,’ Oin exclaimed. 

‘Umm, Yes, l guess so. Most dragon pairs have at least one close call and that was ours. If you look very carefully at Omath’s wing, you can see the scarring and uneven thickness of the sail even now. Of course, she has adjusted to it.’

There was a long silence before Balin spoke ‘l still stay you are a remarkably brave lass,’

‘No, no, just an ordinary green rider. The truly brave are the ground crews.’

As she spoke, T’lara was watching Kili shooting at targets, the young fellow seemed quite skilled. His brother Fili and Nori? The Dwarf with the star shaped hair were duelling with twin knives, a technique T’lara had never used, but often longed to try. 

‘Come now, T’lara,’ it was the dark haired leader of the Dwarves, and he looked impatient and grim.

She faced up to Thorin, and suddenly understood he meant to truly test her. It was all she could do to keep her sword in her hand, and, in minutes he’d disarmed her, but not before earning himself a slight cut to his ribs. 

Now, T’lara thought that would’ve angered this grim man, but he’d actually smiled. ‘You do have skill with a sword my lady!’ he bowed and went to Oin for a couple of stitches and a bandage.

‘You should put back on your shirt, my lady ,’ and there stood Balin, holding her carefully folded shirt. ‘While wearing just a corset is acceptable on the training grounds…and we don’t want you catching a chill.’

‘Thanks Balin.’ T’lara pulled on the borrowed blue shirt, and folded up the slightly too long sleeves. 

Bifur and Bofur suddenly arrived hauling sacks. Bifur was pointing and gesturing wildly, indicating first the sacks, then Omath. 

‘You’d like Omath to look at the possible Firestone?’ Bifur grinned widely, nodding.

‘Aye, we think we have got it right, but surely only the big green lassie will know for sure,’ smiled Bofur. 

‘Big, green lassie, indeed,’ Omath spoke directly to Bofur, making him jump and drop his sack.

T’lara laughed out loud at the poor Dwarf’s startled look out of the corner of his eye at Omath. But the Dragon’s eyes glowed blue, a colour that meant she was calm and relaxed, still too full to easily upset.

‘Here is your Firestone then, lassie,’ and both Bifur and Bofur held pieces for Omath to look at. 

‘Feed it to her,’ laughed T’lara. 

‘How?’ asked Bifur, in Khuzdul.

‘Like this,’ and T’lara put the piece of Firestone on Omath’s tongue as the dragon poked it out. Omath took the Firestone and placed it carefully between her teeth and ‘crunch!’ she pulverised it.

‘Tastes right,’ the dragon commented to her Rider, who passed her thoughts on to Bifur and Bofur. 

‘ Everyone, down to the river, where Omath can try flaming in a safe place,’ and T’lara ran off, leaving the Dwarves and some Elves to trail behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onwards to a flaming dragon


	7. Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omath likes the Firestone, and shows off what a fighting dragon can do. Estel gets a high treat, and asks a ton of questions. Plus, is it possible Balin fancies T’lara?’
> 
> As for Nori in the first part of this chapter, he seems very taken with Omath and might make one of the other dwarves do something silly next chapter!
> 
> And please tell me if you like, or not, a glimpse of the man Estel will grow to be.

T’lara ran down to the river. Flying over it earlier, she’d noticed a bend in the river, overhung by a sheer cliff. An excellent safe place for Omath to flame, if indeed what they had was Firestone.

As she swung around the corner, following the river, she heard running feet behind her and turned to see a distinctive star shaped hairdo behind her, and under that, Nori.

‘Going to have the green lass light up that cliff?’he asked. 

T’lara nodded, keeping her breath for running, and Nori fell silent beside her as they covered the final yards to the cliff face. 

‘Basalt, good,’ the dwarf nodded. Then, clearly quite excited by what the green dragon was going to do, he remarked, ‘will Omath fly in and flame the wall? Will you ride her?’ Nori asked.

‘No, not at first. I will begin by calling Omath here,’ and she went silent for a moment as she called Omath to her. ‘First, we will see if she can produce sustainable flame from this new Firestone.’

Omath winged down to the small stone covered beach beneath the cliff, luckily it was just big enough for her to land in, although her tail was in the water. T’lara beckoned Nori to stand beside her, back by the water’s edge, as she fed Omath more Firestone. 

The green chewed carefully. Feeling she had enough Firestone to flame, she concentrated hard for a few seconds, breathed out and…whoosh! A long large burst of flame shot from the dragon’s mouth, bursting up the cliff wall to shouts of encouragement from the rest of the Dwarves. 

Blinking at the scorched cliff, Omath spoke happily to her Rider, ‘this is good Firestone!’

‘Good enough to try an airborne flame?’ Omath keenly agreed and T’lara mounted. She prepared as if for Thread, fastening the fighting straps tightly, and laying down close to Omath’s neck, her hands in her weyrhide gloves tucked hard under a neck strap.

Omath flew down the river, then turned sharply, showing off a green dragon’s ability to be agile in the air. Lining up the cliff face, the green ignored the people who had come to watch her perform; it seemed the entire population of Rivendell had turned out to look. 

Flying hard, imagining the cliff was Thread, Omath came in low, the wind from her wing beats causing the water to dance and foam. Faster yet Omath pushed on, and then opened her mouth, screaming, flame gushing forth to hit the basalt cliff before pulling sharply up as she barely avoided the cliff face, shooting like an arrow, high high into the sky, her wings folded hard back, before she carefully unfolded her wings, slowly and then turned back towards Rivendell, landing on the cliff’s edge.

Loud cheering greeted them as young Estel ran up, flinging himself onto Omath. She had been used to R’cor doing that, and his children so she merely hummed with pleasure at the boy’s affectionate and slightly out of control greeting. 

‘That was brilliant,’ the boy raved, ‘oh, how l wish l could be a dragon rider!’

‘You do know, even in my home, very very few people became dragonriders? And it is a truly dangerous life to lead?’

‘I know,’ Estel agreed, ‘still one must have hope.’

T’lara agreed, ‘were we in my homeland, l believe you would be Searched and would probably ride bronze, the most sought after colour, and very likely become a Weyrleader. This cannot happen here, but l feel you have a great destiny before you, and know Omath and l will stand your friends as long as life endures.’

Suddenly Estel seemed filled with maturity and majesty as he answered, ‘perhaps you are right, lady T’lara, in any case l will always be your friend.’

T’lara smiled, hugging Estel, ‘l don’t know your future but l do hope you will find love and happiness.’

‘Thank you,’ he said softly. 

Suddenly he became a boy again, laughing happily. ‘Can l have another ride on Omath, please!’ Estel turned to his mother, who looked helplessly at T’lara. 

‘I think l’ve created a monster!’the green rider laughed. ‘Omath still has a good bit of Firestone in her, do you want a taste of true dragonriding?’

T’lara glanced at Gilraen, ‘it’s alright. I’ve taken young riders up on Omath to experience riding a flaming dragon before. It’s how we all experience riding a flaming dragon the first time, on someone else’s beast, under the instruction of a seasoned rider.’

Estel had run to get his jacket, gloves and hat before his mother could say no, and quickly joined T’lara on Omath. Up into the clear, warm sky they flew, after promising Gilraen and Elrond a less dangerous flame than the one at the cliff face.

Instead of coming in hard to the cliff, T’lara directed Omath down the river, and back again. Coming back, Omath let go her flame down the river, all but boiling the water. Estel, flat against her neck with T’lara’s body pressing him down into the dragon’s green hide, was again whooping with excitement as the last of Omath’s flame puffed out and green turned her head, expecting more Firestone only to be told no, maybe the next day. 

If Estel had loved riding Omath the previous evening, it was nothing to how excited he was over riding her during her flame exercise, after all she had to learn this new Firestone!

Eagerly, the lad helped wash and oil Omath, learning that dragonriders spent a great deal of time tending to their dragons and making, or mending, their riding harness. ‘So, it’s hard work then,’Estel asked as he finished wiping Omath’s left wing with an oily cloth.

‘And dangerous too, very many of us at least got scored in Threadfall, usually you’d be well enough to ride again by the next fall for minor scoring.’

‘Did..did many die?’ The boy asked.

T’lara never lied to her son or grandchildren so she wasn’t about to lie to Estel. ‘Yes Estel, many riders and dragons did die. Friends of mine, very close friends sometimes. Omath and l nearly died once, we’re very lucky to be alive.’

‘Did only dragonriders die?’

‘No. Everyone was supposed to be inside strong stone or brick buildings, but sometimes people got caught outside for lots of reasons. Dragonriders would rescue them if we could and take them to the Weyr till we could get them home again. Ground crews were at great risk, out during Threadfall with only Flamethrowers to pick up any Thread that got through the Wings. The queens would ride low level and sort of mop up anything got through, but one small wing of three to at the most eight, can’t cover everything. So some Thread would get through to the ground crews, and then they had to deal with it. The same ..year l was married, my new husband’s brother and his whole ground crew was killed in one horrible incident.’

Estel put down the cloth. ‘It sounds like a dangerous place.’

‘It is. It’s also why our lives are so regulated and disciplined. You can’t let youngsters just run riot playing like you do, what if Thread falls out of pattern?’

‘Everyone would die?’ T’lara nodded. 

‘How many dragons are there?’

‘About three thousand, split between six Weyrs.’

‘That’s not many,’ said the lad grimly, ‘to protect a whole world. How do you do it?’

‘Each Weyr has it’s own area to protect, but sometimes we combine our wings with neighbouring Weyrs at the border areas.’

Estel nodded, thinking hard. ‘With all the Thread fighting and,’ he rubbed his cloth on Omath again, ‘caring for your dragons, you mustn’t have much time for other things.’

‘No, which is why dragonrider usually don’t have a craft or do farm work. Instead, the Weyrs are tithed, we get a share of all the produce and goods. The clothes l wore when l arrived, and Omath’s decorated harness were gifts from the weavers and leather workers craft halls for example, as my belt knife was a gift from the Smith Crafthall.’

‘Why did you get so many gifts? Was it your birthday?’

T’lara laughed heartily at last, ‘no Estel, it wasn’t, and anyways once you are a dragonrider you celebrate Impression Day not your birthday, because at Impression you are reborn as a dragonrider, you are different. Some people suddenly stop stuttering or loose their shyness, for example. So we celebrate that day, but Omath and l got our gifts because l’d just been appointed Weyrling Master, the first ever female rider in that position.’

Balin had appeared and smiled, ‘just for that, lass?’

Both T’lara and Estel turned their dark eyed gaze towards Balin. ‘You don’t think it was a way of thanking you, a high born lady, for risking your life as a dragonrider for four decades?’

‘That’s possible, l hadn’t thought on it much, with being so busy winding down the Weyr from fighting status, and worrying about the Hatching, but you could well be right!’

Balin nodded, his thumbs hooked into his belt, ‘you’d better wash up, you two. Estel, your mother says you can have dinner with T’lara and we Dwarves but ONLY if you go for your bath now.’

Estel flicked his gaze to T’lara. ‘Yes, we’re finished. Off you go!’

The boy disappeared at high speed, almost knocking over two elves in his haste. Luckily, the elves thought it was funny and laughed, but not as loudly as Balin.

The white haired dwarf was fairly roaring with laughter, doubled over. Wiping his eyes, he spluttered, ‘l bet the lad has never moved like that for bath time before.’

‘Probably not,’ T’lara giggled. ‘I should go too and get ready for dinner, too.’ She’d already noticed the dwarves were cleaner and neater today then they had been.

‘Perhaps you should wear a dress tonight lass, there might be some dancing,’ Balin suggested.

‘Is that an offer, Balin?’

‘It might be!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head canon for this fic, Balin is a bit taller and not so Father Christmassy as movie Balin. For this story he more clearly Dwalin’s older brother, but still a sweet kindly older dwarf, who was as strong a warrior in his prime as Dwalin, but he took a different path in his life than that of professional soldier.
> 
> Also head canon for me is that dragonriders celebrate Impression Day rather than their birthday. In her writings about the earliest dragonriders, Anne McCaffrey mentions the riders felt reborn after Impression and that speech impediments and behavioural issues could decrease or be eliminated. So my idea of a rider celebrating his/her Impression Day rather then their birthday was born.


	8. Naughty Nori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of T’lara past, and we meet a new Pernese character.

T’lara took Balin’s words as a challenge, and she attired herself as suggested. The elf ladies had been happy to help her find a suitable dress from amongst the gear kept for visitors, and T’lara had a pretty gold and green dress and some soft shoes on, just right for showing the dwarves she could dance all night if she liked. 

Omath throughly approved of her rider’s appearance, offering her opinion that if T’lara didn’t dance with Balin, she, Omath would be very upset. ‘He’s what your Mother would’ve called a good catch!’ T’lara laughed loudly, grabbing at Omath for support. ‘Oh dearest, you are so right!’ T’lara’s mother and Omath had not seen eye to eye on many things, but it had been funny to watch the old holder lady and Omath try to match make T’lara with different handsome riders of blue and brown dragons, an activity T’lara’s mother enjoyed right up to the end of her life, a few years ago. Now it appeared Omath was determined to continue the tradition all by herself.

‘The Dwarves are nice if hairy, specially this one,’ and Omath projected an image of Balin to her Rider, one from a memory of a scene T’lara hadn’t seen. Grateful she was still clinging to Omath, T’lara laughed till she cried at the image of the naked dwarves bathing and playing in the largest of Rivendell’s fountains like naughty Weyrbrats!

‘Oh dear, Omath, l think you’d keep it to between us you saw that and passed it to me!’

Omath agreed, ‘but my Rider, will you dance with Balin if he asks?’ Omath looked suspiciously innocent.

‘Keep out of his head,’ T’lara poked her dragon on the nose. ‘IF Balin is going to ask me to dance, l would like it to be HIS idea.

‘Can l push just a little… if he proves shy?’

‘A little tiny bit,’ T’lara held her right thumb and forefinger nearly together, the gap barely visible, indicating the amount of meddling she would allow her dragon. 

‘Alright!’ Omath gave a hard done by sigh. ‘But only if you can convince one of the Dwarves to dance with you on my back!’

Most dragon pairs had a party trick or two after years of being together. Started at the Fort Hold celebration of her oldest brother’s marriage, this was Omath and T’lara’s, of challenging some unwitting fellow to dance with her on Omath’s back.

Her successes over the years had been many, most notably three Lord Holders, her father, brother and Jaxom of Ruatha, and two Weyrleaders, F’lar and N’ton, plus two Masterharpers, Robinton, when they were still a young pair, and later Sebel.

Tonight it would be Dwarves, a Hobbit and some Elves, she hoped. Definitely Glorfindel, she thought, intrigued by his earlier statement of having an affinity with beasts of fire.

To her surprise, Balin escorted her to the table at which several people were already seated. Elrond, his children (where was his wife? Perhaps she could quietly ask Gilraen), and Thorin was there, plus the dark brooding elf who’d fed bread to Omath, Glorfindel, Gilraen, and a blonde female elf T’lara didn’t know and some others of Elrond’s advisors .

As T’lara sat, Gilraen looked towards the table the Dwarves sat at, looking at her son deep in conversation with little Ori, who was showing him some drawings he’d done of Rivendell. 

Gandalf appeared and sat beside the blonde lady elf. ‘How go things in Lorien?’he inquired. 

‘Well, in fact, l am taking Arwen back with me for a visit.’

Gandalf nodded. Suddenly T’lara felt the elf woman’s deep blue gaze upon her. ‘You must be the dragonlady?’

‘I am Omath’s Rider, my lady.’

‘T’lara is your name.’ A flat statement.

‘You have me at a disadvantage, my lady,’ T’lara returned in a soft, light voice. 

Elrond chimed in, ‘indeed it is remiss of me not to have introduced you. Lady T’lara, please meet my wife’s mother, Lady Galadriel.’

T’lara smiled, ‘l am pleased to meet you, Lady Galadriel. But surely Elrond is joking when he says you are his wife’s mother?’

‘Elves are truly immortal, we do not die, save in war or accidents, l am older than you could possibly imagine,’ replied Galadriel. Then softer, ‘but tell us of yourself, T’lara.’

‘There’s not much to tell, l was born a Lord Holder’s daughter and was Searched for a queen egg of Ramoth’s. Instead, l got my beautiful Omath and we fought Thread for 42 years before somehow coming here.’

Galadriel nodded in agreement with T’lara’s words. ‘You say you came by accident and yet last night you tried to leave.’ The Elf woman’s blue eyes were dark and unreadable. 

Balin’s hand had crept into T’lara’s, and his fingers twined comfortably about hers. The green riders eyes flashed, ‘You think l work with enemies of yours, that l was sent to gather information! I did indeed try to go home, but we were held back. A person who looked like a tall Dwarf came to us in between and said we couldn’t go back, we were needed here, and he had brought us here, that bad visuals were never our problem, it was him.’

‘Did this person give a name!’Thorin asked.

‘Yes, he said you would know him as Mahal, Maker of the Dwarves and that you need us, Omath and l, to aid in your Quest.’

‘Interesting,’ The black haired elf who’d fetched the bread for Omath the previous evening spoke in his beautiful voice. As all eyes turned to him for explanation, he shrugged, ‘l did my apprenticeship at The Smith’s Forge, l can quite see him meddling in the this, for the elder line of Durin is involved.’

‘So you are to fight Smaug?’ Thorin mused. Do dragons fight each other much?’

‘Very rarely, though young dragons will wrestle and fight each other a bit, it is one of the things the newly impressed riders must watch out. Sometimes.. the queens would fight, if they rose to mate closely together. They would fight over the bronzes..often to the death. My friend, Brekke, that’s what happened to her, her dragon Wirenth fought her sister, Prideth, wounded and bleeding the queens…went between, forever.

The Riders usually suicide too, but, well with a lot of help from her friends and Weyrmate, Brekke made a full recovery. Brekke can hear any dragon, all dragons, at all times. Sometimes she rode other’s dragon’s, even in Threadfall! When we were winglight with injured riders, that is.

Kylara,’ and her T’lara face became even grimmer, ‘she caused the queen’s fight by neglecting her dragon shamefully, well she survived too, in a child like state. Her birth family took her back and cared for her, but many people, my father included, wanted her executed. Dragonfolk don’t take lives, or rarely..l was one who did.’

‘I can’t imagine a sweet lass like you killing someone!’ Balin objected

‘A duel explains it all, l think.’ T’lara twirled the wine glass for a second before downing the contents. ‘I duelled my former husband, not to first blood as is traditional with dragonriders, as we can’t afford to loose riders in fights. We duelled to the death.’

Several people drew in deep breathes, and it was Elrond, Lord of Rivendell who asked his guest, ‘there is a tale there, and not one l deem for the Hall of Fire.’

Looking across the table at Elrond for permission, T’lara told her tale. ‘Jase, my former husband, always was a fool. I now realise he had a lot of resentment towards dragonriders over his brother’s death, but honestly l know now that nobody could’ve predicted that Thread would burrow like that. It would’ve been best to have had dragon’s flame over the whole area, to have lost twenty acres of young trees then a whole ground crew. Jase insisted that burrow be dug up and flamed by the ground crew with flamethrowers.

The ground collapsed and the entire crew were eaten alive by Thread..a horrible way to die. Only a year later l was Searched, and then l think Jase blamed the Weyrs for the loss of me and my unborn child. He truly had deep problem.

He managed to more or less control this for years until our granddaughter stood as queen’s egg candidate even though at 15 she was very young. Eaith didn’t impress, but the very fact she stood was enough for her grandfather, and all his old taunts to me about being a whore, and doubting if he was actually my son’s father began again; l’d heard it all before for decades, it didn’t bother me anymore. But when that dimglow called my granddaughter Eaith a whore and dragonriders murderers, l snapped. 

I cried insult on Jase, and my brother, now Fort Holder, agreed for Fort Hold to host the duel, and that he would be our referee. 

My son R’cor as Weyrsinger was present to handle legal matters and my friend Petra, Queenrider, as Bendan Weyrs witness. Two blueriders escorted us, as an honour guard, to bring Jase to Fort Hold. 

We winged into Hanging Rock Runnerhold late morning. Instead of landing on the Hold’s fire heights we landed directly in the gather grounds, it was a bit of squeeze for five dragons but we’d practised the day before and we came out of between in formation, Leth leading as the Queen should, Omath to her right, Zooth, my son’s dragon on the left and the two blues behind. 

We landed without the usual courtesy of not startling beasts in the fields or flapping dust over clean washing to impress upon the Hold folk we were there for satisfaction not hospitality. 

The blue riders went first, aggressively knocking on the main hold doors with the handles of their belt knives, then striding in it when was opened, demanding Holder Jase’s whereabouts from the frightened people at knife point when it was denied he was home.

Finally, some of the Hold folk dragged the sniveling tunnel snake from his quarters where he’d tried to hide. Tied up like suckling beast destined for the spit, we strapped him to Leth as the largest, and so, most scary dragon. Poor Leth grumbled the whole time, even suggesting she could drop Jase between.

When we arrived at Fort, Jase complained-he couldn’t walk he said, after being trussed up. My brother’s sword taught him he could walk just fine, even run quite nicely. Straight to Fort’s training grounds where the Holder Folk, and the craftsmen of the Healer and Harper Holds were gathering. 

That fool Jase had to make things worse. I had intended to duel him only until First Blood, in the traditional dragonrider way. He had to insult Weyrwoman Petra. Had to call the nicest Weyrwoman on Pern some truly awful and unrepeatable things, howling insults like a sun crazed canine. He shut up quick smart when Petra blooded him across the face and Leth had to be physically restrained by the other dragons. 

That was when the duel became to the death. You don’t insult a Queen Rider, only they and their dragons hold the safety of Pern secure by breeding the next generations of fighting dragons. So, l stripped to my fighting gear, worn under my riding leathers, and Petra kicked Jase into the training ring and threw a knife at the coward’s feet.’

He was shaking, full of bluster as he faced me. The first blow was for calling my sweet granddaughter a whore, the second for daring to call a Weyrwoman a slut. The final strike to his heart was calling for dragonriders murderers, we who willingly risked ourselves and our dragons for the recompense of food and dress goods!

He got in a blow at me as he died, to my left thigh. Not deep but bad enough for me to be grounded for three falls.’ T’lara gave a wry smile to those gathered around. ‘My brother beheaded Jase’s body as required by the Pern Charter and the body was dumped into the sea. I believe one of his cousins took over Hanging Rock Hold after that.’

‘I wanted to flame Jase,’ Omath put in, ‘but Leth wouldn’t let me,’ the green grumbled. 

‘Or let Zooth eat him, but that was because Leth claimed eating someone as horrible as Jase would’ve made Zooth terribly ill!’ 

Everyone laughed at that. Balin recovered quickly however to ask, ‘all the dragons seem to have names ending in ‘th..’

‘That’s right, it’s traditional, the dragons are hatched knowing their names. And despite Omath and Zooth’s wishes regarding Jase, dragons will only hurt people by accident when newly hatched, or in extreme self defence of their riders. What the dragons said was simply to make the Hold folk start thinking before they acted.’

Balin was still holding her hand as Galadriel spoke softly, ‘that is indeed a tale!’ Mind you l would probably do the same to anyone who insulted my granddaughter!’ Eyes meeting, the two grandmothers gave each other a nod of understanding.

‘Remind me never to insult you!’ That was Glorfindel chuckling. ‘Mind you, l might have a chance against Omath.’

T’lara and Omath both turned an inquiring gaze upon the elf. ‘I fought a Balrog once, a great beast of fire, l was doing quite till it cheated and used it’s whip.’

T’lara looked a bit confused. ‘The painting on the landing by the fountain, that’s me fighting the Balrog,’ Glorfindel explained. 

Now, T’lara had taken a long hard look at that painting, of some incredibly dangerous looking gigantic fiery creature, with a tiny figure, all in shinning silver armour, brandishing a sword at it.

‘What happened, how could you defeat.. that?’

‘I didn’t, l died.’

Luckily, T’lara was not holding anything fragile, because she boneless with shock. ‘He speaks the truth, my rider, l saw it in his mind when we flew together,’ Omath stated. 

‘But how? How are you here? Ghosts don’t have substance, or eat and drink!’ T’lara blurted out.

‘Elves may return from the dead, my dear, and that is all l will say,’ said the mysterious dark haired elf softly. 

‘I see.’ Unsure what to make of a statement that seemed to be unwaveringly accepted by the rest of the folk at the table, T’lara applied herself to the good food in front of her. 

A delicious soup was the starter, and all applied themselves keenly to that, although the table full of dwarves though, seemed to be running a slurping contest that Gilraen took exception, quietly berating Estel until Dori promised to take the lad under his wing and make him behave. 

Dinner continued with T’lara taking many questions about Pern. Yes, there were two more flying reptilian species people on Pern lived with, the tiny native Firelizards, and another bred species, the Watchweyr. 

‘Watchweyrs are smaller than dragons, nocturnal, and don’t Impress. All the large Holds and Crafthalls have at least one, they are on Watch during the dark, allowing the people to rest. Watchweyrs are also used by miners, they help dig, they can sense bad stone and possible cave-ins. The Firestone mines always use Watchweyrs. There is an old legend the early Holders used them as a last ditch defence against Thread when there were many fewer dragons. I suppose it might be true,’ she mused. 

‘And then there are Firelizards. They are only this long,’ she waved her hands indicating about the length of her arm. ‘They do Impress, but not traditionally. My father had a Queen, Merga, and Harper Menolly Impressed nine at one Hatching. They are the ancestors of both Dragons and Watchweyrs.’

Just then there was a chittering sound in the air above Omath’s head. ‘About time!’ T’lara exclaimed, ‘Frisk, where have you been? And don’t say looking for us all this time, even Omath won’t believe that!’

To the astonishment of all watching, T’lara raised her arm and a tiny blue dragon took up a perch there chirping happily. With permission, he began to happily drink the last of T’lara’s soup, stopping every now and again to lift jewel green eyes to the curious people.

Recovering his speech at the sight before him more quickly then the others at the table Gandalf inquired, ‘that must be a Firelizard, an enchanting creature.’

‘This is Frisk, he’s been with us almost since the beginning, actually his egg was a present from my parents when my son was born, so l had three babies to care for.’

The lizard chirped again and T’lara spoke again to him, ‘Yes, there will be solid food soon, or have some bread.’

A small hand appeared hesitantly to touch Frisk’s wing. ‘Can he do everything Omath can?’ Estel’s wide eyes gazed curiously at the tiny blue. 

‘Well, he can’t carry a rider, of course, but he can carry messages, go between and flame Thread.’

The boy raised his hand to be sniffed and then licked. ‘Yes, you may go with Estel, Frisk. No diving head first into food, and no drinking alcohol,’ T’lara instructed. 

‘Here you go, Estel,’ she lifted the lizard to Estel’s shoulder. ‘He’ll probably curl around your neck, so don’t be too surprised when he chirps in your ear!’ She laughed at Gilraen, ‘Frisk lived basically connected to my son, and later his children, often Omath and l only saw him during Threadfall, when he flew with us, as did every other Firelizard.’

‘They fight Thread, too?’ asked one of Elrond’s identical sons.

‘Absolutely. Very good at picking up the tiny live pieces left in char, excellent at running messages almost instantly. They will help protect those caught in Threadfall until a Dragon can pick the person up, too.’

‘Pick someone up in Threadfall?’ asked Elrond.

‘Occasionally, someone will go further than they thought seeking beasts in paddocks, or thread can fall out of pattern, and you’ll find some person, usually a kid, pelting along on foot trying to outrun Thread, sometimes on horseback.’ The greenrider smiled, ‘once, Omath picked up a little horse and a very young rider and, with Omath gripping them tightly in her talons we transferred them to Bendan Weyr. The little horse squealed the whole way, but as even we swooped on them and went between almost at ground level, little Coley was delighted. She actually became a queen rider herself a few years later.’

‘What was a young girl doing out alone except for her pony!’ Galadriel asked, ‘where were her parents?’

‘Pony? The little horse? There’s a special name for the small ones?’ Galadriel gave a brief nod, but clearly expected an answer.

‘Coley’s parents were dead, a tragic fishing accident, l believe. She was given to her Aunt and Uncle to raise but she was worked as a drudge by the family, starved and beaten, poor child. So she ran away on one of the Hold..ponies, her childish mind never even considering the danger of Threadfall. When Bendan Weyr heard her tale, the Queenriders went to the Bendan Lord Holder and demanded satisfaction.

Lord Raid was horrified with what he found, and a Lord Holders Council was called to bring down Justice upon Coley’s Aunt and Uncle. I was there as a witness to the state Coley was in when Omath rescued her. And l say it was Omath as she saw the child and pony and she did all the hard work of the actual rescue. Then, we found she had an older sister, Nandi, the Uncle had been,’ T’lara chose her words with care, aware Estel was listening, ‘misusing his wife’s niece.’

Total silence greeted those dreadful words with shocked looks and silence. ‘The Council of Queens looks after such matters, and recruited the female green riders on this. We threatened to raze Stony Heights Hold to the ground, and flame every living thing unless Coley’s Aunt and Uncle were handed over to us. Lord Raid asked us to wait until the Lord Holder’s Council had deliberated and Weyrwoman Lessa and l, the only two Queens Council members who were Lord Holder’s daughter’s agreed.

Finally, we got an answer, with no other living relatives, the girls were turned over to Bendan Weyr’s care. The Aunt and Uncle were cast adrift with some others of their Hold on a remote lsland. My father was the Lord Holder’s witness, it was one of the few times he rode Omath.’

‘What became of the girls?’ This was Arwen asking. 

‘Brekke fostered them, and l said Coley became the rider of Gold Ilith, and her sister Nandi became my son’s weyrmate, mother of my grandchildren.’

‘All well then,’ said Thorin.

‘In time,’ agreed T’lara.

She noticed the dark brooding elf. Quietly he spoke, she noticing again his stunningly beautiful tenor voice, ‘all this is interesting my lady, but tell me, what is music like on your world? Do you sing?’ 

‘Of course!’

‘So, guitar or harp, my lady?’

‘Gitar , my lord.’

A magnificent instrument was handed to T’lara. She looked towards the dark haired elf, and was about to ask what he might like to hear, when, from Estel’s shoulder Frisk started chittering and flapping. T’lara immediately laid down the gitar and leaped to her feet, striding onto an open lawn area as she ran her eye over the dwarves at the table. Two were missing.

So was Omath and her harness. Roaring at the top of voice and mind, T’lara bellowed, ‘Omath, by the shards of Faranth’s shell, where the bloody hell are you!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, where is Omath? Did you like Frisk? I invented the Queens Council, which is of the Weyrwomen, plus the female green riders by invitation. They can give judgement on matters of mistreatment of children and women, whether tithes are correct or not, and the misappropriation of goods, plus the kidnapping of girls to the Weyrs, when they’re called it is rare, but they answer to the Lord Holders only.


	9. Stolen dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why you don’t steal a dragon, basically.  
> Why Trolls are a nuisance.  
> Did you know Dwarves make toys? T’lara didn’t.

Stolen

‘Up here, my Rider,’ The dragon happily warbled. ‘In the name of the First Riders, Omath, what are thinking?’

‘We had a nice flight, up the river and back again, just like with the weyrlings.’

‘These people are not sharding weyrlings’ T’lara bellowed. ‘Get down..NOW!’

Warbling reluctantly, Omath obeyed, and backwinged to break her speed and land. 

Two dwarves were seated on her, attached by riding straps. T’lara strode forward as her dragon landed. ‘What in flaming Thread are you two doing?’

‘Flying on a dragon, l believe, drawled Nori. 

‘Really? I thought you might be tired of life! Do you have any inkling of what a dumb, dangerous thing you just did?’

T’lara drew breath to continue when Dori arrived. Whatever she’d been going to say next paled in comparison to Dori’s rage with Nori, and his worry over Ori. In fact, Dori fussed so much that T’lara began to see the funny side!

Chuckling at Dori’s rant, which had Ori looking contrite and Nori was ignoring as he deftly unharnessed Omath, his manner so cheeky that T’lara was shocked. Winking, Nori gave T’lara an outrageous grin, much like another green rider might’ve back on Pern. Green riders were always known for their cheeky, flirty, ways. 

Giving way to her sense of the ridiculous T’lara suddenly started to laugh at Nori’s unrepentant cheekiness until she had to cling to Omath yet again! It seems Dwarves have a talent for getting themselves into silly, troublesome situations.

Omath spoke softly, but again, out of character for dragons usually, to everyone, not just T’lara. ‘But, my Rider, you were busy, and this nice fellow,’ here she pushed Ori with her nose slightly, ‘wanted to ride me. His brother would be a terrific green rider, so l let him harness me, and off we went!’

Nori simply nodded agreement, ‘we didn’t do anything really silly, no flaming or betweening.’

T’lara listened politely enough now she’d stopped giggling. 

‘Nori and Ori, you don’t know this, and you Omath, as a green dragon you know you forget the importance of some things. What if you’d needed your emergency visuals?’

Omath hung her head. ‘Didn’t think of that,’ she replied, T’lara repeated her words for the other people to hear. 

‘Trying to go back to Bendan Weyr is no good, we’d never get there. We need to reset our emergency visuals.’

‘To what?,’ Omath enquired.

‘Here, Rivendell, with Lord Elrond’s permission,’ and T’lara bowed in Elrond’s direction.

‘What does this mean?’ Elrond asked.

‘When a dragon pair is in deep trouble, usually injured, the dragon has imprinted on him or her a set of emergency visuals, where to go between in a dire situation. We go home, to our own Weyr, regardless of where or when the emergency occurred, it is the first part of training to use your emergency visuals, to go home where there will be people to help you. 

Suddenly T’lara swept a stern glare over Nori and Ori, and all the watching people realised why she’d been appointed Weyrling Master.

‘Now, you two, if there’d been an emergency or injury while you were flying, where do you think Omath would’ve gone?’

‘Bendan Weyr,’ replied Nori, suddenly aware that if Omath did get through to Bendan no one would know who he and Ori were.

‘No one would know us, and what if we couldn’t get back here!’ Nori went pale at the risk he taken with his little brother. 

‘What if you had gotten stuck between forever or reappeared in the wrong place,’ T’lara was going to ram home this lesson. 

‘What happens then,’ asked an ashen faced Dori. 

‘You can die, Weyrlings are always taken to see the Dragon Crystal. This is a huge clear crystal, and in it, entombed forever is a dragon, bronze or brown, you can’t tell which colour anymore. With his rider. They were very very young…’ T’lara looked at the shocked faces.’

‘And if you stay between?’ That was Balin. 

‘There is no air between, so you would die,’ answered T’lara bluntly. 

‘Now do you understand why no one rides Omath without me? Even if she says you can?’

Nori did now have the grace to look contrite. Thorin spoke in a deep, hard voice, ‘what does my Company owe you for the misuse of your Dragon?’

‘Nothing, but l would ask that Nori deals with one of the less pleasant aspects of dragon riding. This is exactly the punishment for stealing a dragon the Weyrleader would impose. When a dragon finishes flaming, she brings up the residue of the Firestone. This must be cleared away.’

‘Hmm, yes, an unpleasant job indeed.’

Nori rolled his eyes, ‘l’ll do it only because it’s worth a dragon ride!’

Elrond had watched the scene unfolding before him with a certain amount of amusement. ‘Lady T’lara, Lady Omath, you may use Rivendell as your safe place in an emergency. At least we have healers here!’ Elrond seeemed now very pleased with himself.

T’lara bowed, ‘Thank you, Lord Elrond.’

Maglor came forward again, ‘lady, will you still sing for us.’

‘I will,’ and picking up the guitar again she struck the opening chords for The Question Song. The Eerie tune sounded as T’lara accompanied it in a rich contralto voice.

Delighted, the people of Rivendell listened to T’lara’s unusual song, not fully understanding the lyrics:

‘Gone away, gone ahead,  
Echoes roll unanswered,  
Empty, open, dusty, dead  
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together?  
Leaving Weyrs to wind and weather  
Setting herdbeast of tether  
Gone, our safeguards, gone but where?

Have they flown to some new Weyr,  
Where cruel Thread others fear?  
Are they worlds away from here?  
Why, oh why the empty Weyr?’

Then T’lara played on, a soft instrumental that lasted several minutes; by the time she finished several elves on harps, and one playing a flute were accompanying her.

‘That was a most unusual song,’ Maglor remarked. ‘And sung in a very nice voice, for a mortal.’

T’lara smiled in thanks. ‘That was a teaching ballad, we teach our children through song and music, as the average Pernese person doesn’t read or write. One of the first jobs with new dragonriders is reading and writing. That song, the Question Song was answered before l impressed Omath.

Some here have called me brave,’ the greenrider flicked her gaze to Balin, ‘but you are wrong. Lessa, Weyrwoman, Rider of gold Ramoth, Omath’s mother, rode four hundred years back in time to bring forward the lost Weyrs, and nearly died doing it.

The Question Song asks why all but Bendan Weyr was devoid of dragons. Lessa decided the lost Weyrs came to her time, to help the depleted Bendan Weyr fight Thread. A hundred and fifty dragons to do what three thousand used to, even fighting time between you can’t do it.’

‘Fighting Time between?’ Dwalin, who was apparently obsessed with anything to do with a good fight asked.

‘Mm, the most dangerous way to fly Threadfall. When Thread falls out of pattern as it did when Omath and l were young and just starting to fly Thread, sometimes, instead of having time to get ready, you have to scramble quickly, on the spot, with no time to prepare. Non riders will help by harnessing your dragon while you dress in fighting gear and weyrlings will help with Firestone. Then, the wings have to go back, between time, to be there at the start of Threadfall. Normally, we go before Threadfall starts, to wait in wing formation for Thread to come to us. Fighting Time between you emerge from between flaming, hoping you don’t fly straight into an impenetrable wall of Thread.’

‘I still say you are a very brave woman,’ persisted Balin. 

‘Nothing compared to Lessa. Using only a tapestry as her guide, she went time between and, as l said, brought forward the lost Weyrs. My friend B’rant, and his Tulth were two of them.’

‘What of other songs?’ Maglor spoke again seeming awfully impatient for an immortal being.

T’lara strummed the guitar again, and a light merry tune she played this time.

‘The little Queen all golden  
Flew hissing at the sea  
To stop each wave  
Her clutch to save  
She ventured bravely

As she attacked the sea in rage  
A Holder man came nigh  
Along the sand  
Fishnet in hand  
And saw the Queen midsky 

He stared at her in wonder  
For often he’d been told  
That such as she  
Could never be  
That hovered there bright gold

He saw her plight and quickly  
Looked up the cliff he faced  
And saw a cave  
Above the wave  
In which her eggs he placed

The little Queen all golden  
Upon his shoulder stood  
Her eyes of blue  
Aglow with true  
Undying gratitude’

‘That’s just a song a friend wrote, about her first meeting with Firelizards, which up till the we’d forgotten about and considered legends.’

‘Talented friend,’ remarked Kili, who had really liked the last song. 

‘Yes, Menolly is, the first girl to have been a Harper’s apprentice in centuries.’

Bofur was being cheeky ‘another song, T’lara,’ he called.

‘There will be a price, as payment for a song personally for you, Bofur.’

Bofur cocked his head curiously as T’lara continued, ‘to be the first victim of my and Omath’s party trick.’

‘Victim!’ Squeaked Bombur in a panicky high pitched tone that had T’lara giggling.

‘Nothing sinister, just l like to have someone dance with me on Omath’s back!’

‘You’re on there, l’ll dance with you on the green lassie!’

‘Deal,’ smiled T’lara, and strummed the guitar again.

‘Seas boil  
Mountains move  
Sands heat  
Dragons Prove  
Red Star passes

Stones pile  
Fires burn  
Green withers  
Arm Pern  
Red Star passes

Star stones watch  
Scan the sky  
Ready the Weyrs  
Riders fly!  
Red Star passes’

Grinning, T’lara laid down the guitar and went to Omath, flinging up a neck strap on her, ready to use to climb up. 

Once T’lara was up, Bofur followed. ‘Now dragonback dancing rules. You can see we don’t have a lot of space up here so no spinning or jumping about, just a slow dance.’

Bofur chuckled, and held his hands out to T’lara, who took them in hers as Bofur stepped forward. With T’lara only wearing light shoes, and Bofur, like all the dwarves wearing his heavy boots, he was, like most of the Dwarves was not much shorter than her, some, like Thorin, Kili and Dwalin were as tall or taller. 

With encouragement from some of cheekier Dwarves who asked the elves to play, Bofur and T’lara danced on top of Omath who hummed with amusement. 

Dance finished, Bofur surprised T’lara with a kiss on her hand, before asking a favour.

‘It’s Bifur, he’s shy and a bit confused by his head injury.’

‘No wonder,’ replied T’lara, ‘with an axe in the poor fellows head!’

‘He really likes Omath,’

‘And he’d like a ride, a night ride I’m guessing.’

‘It would be a great kindness if you and Omath could do this. Bifur has even made you both gifts, in anticipation of yes being the answer.’

‘How charming, don’t you think Omath?’

Laughing T’lara repeated Omath’s agreement, providing she and Frisk could help with singing their favourite song later. T’lara agreed. 

‘The last song you sang lass,’ it was Balin asking. 

‘Red Star passes, it’s a warning song that geological disturbances and the Queen dragons laying large clutches means a fifty year pass of the Red Star is coming; the rest of the song is what you do to be ready.’

‘And dragons is what you need,’ Balin replied. ‘And to get more dragons?’

‘You need the Queens to rise more often to mate, so they will lay larger clutches of eggs too.’

‘Do green dragons lay eggs?’

‘No, due to them chewing Firestone and flaming, they’re barren.’

Taking a swift look towards Estel who was playing with Frisk, Fili and Kili, ‘but greens rise to mate..frequently.’

Balin said nothing, but looked enquiringly at T’lara, ‘what effect does this have on the rider.’

T’lara fidgeted. ‘A total effect, you become your dragon in a mating flight, and, um, as the dragons mate so do the riders.’

‘What of Omath’s needs now?’

‘Ah, she has aged beyond the need to mate, as l am beyond the ability to have children; Omath will not be a problem.’

‘That’s good, lass,’ Balin smiled. ‘Now here is Bifur.’

T’lara smiled at the seemingly shy dwarf who stood before her, ‘would you care for a dragon ride, Bifur?’

He nodded, and held out three carved figures. One was T’lara, the next Omath and the third, Frisk. Bifur had even painted the tiny Dragon and Firelizard figures!

‘Bifur likes you, T’lara,’ Bofur explained. 

‘I like you too, Bifur, and so does Omath. Frisk is busy playing with Estel, but he’ll like you too. Can l leave these figures with someone to mind while we fly?’

‘I’ll mind them,’ piped up Ori, clearly trying to make up for his earlier behaviour, though T’lara was aware that Nori should more properly blamed there. 

‘Thank you Ori.’

Though she wore a dress, T’lara did have leggings on in case she needed or wanted to ride, so she was able to quickly mount and help Bifur up. 

The axe bearing dwarf T’lara settled in front of her. Bifur seemed happy there as he was strapped firmly to Omath’s harness. 

From the ground Bofur spoke up, ‘now T’lara, Bifur will understand everything you say, but he can’t speak anything but our language.’

‘That’s ok, Omath will be able to understand you Bifur, and tell me what you are saying. Now, you will feel her in your mind..don’t be frightened.’ T’lara felt a bit of tension in Bifur, then he relaxed. 

‘Now, l am going to give Omath the signal to lift off,’ and as the dragon obeyed, she continued, ‘let’s go north and a have a look about.’

Through Omath, T’lara got Bifur’s agreement, and they flew for about thirty minutes. Suddenly, he reached back to tap T’lara’s hand. He pointed to large beings lumbering about. Omath showed T’lara more clearly what the creatures were doing. They had captives! A family, struggling to get away!

Omath dove, raking one of the creatures across the face and head. The foul being dropped the man it carried. Bifur had already pulled up the Firestone sack and was clearly asking should he give some to Omath.

‘Flame these trolls,’ Omath translated for Bifur. ‘They are evil like the Orcs, and will keep killing people until they’re stopped!’

T’lara agreed, once Omath had passed on information from Bifur’s mind. ‘Better give Omath Firestone then!’

Bifur made quick work of feeding the Firestone to Omath, but then T’lara had noticed the dwarves picked things up easily.

‘Hang on!’T’lara advised as Omath banked hard and came in low, flaming in small bursts at the Trolls, while taking care not to injure the people. As the trolls eventually realised they couldn’t fight Omath (their one attempt to throw weapons at her had simply resulted in her blinking between instinctively, like fighting Thread) they fled, and Omath landed quickly. Bifur slid down to the ground to check on the frightened former captives. 

‘I will go back to Rivendell and bring help!’T’Lara called out. 

Again, Omath spoke to T’lara for Bifur, ‘be quick and bring a healer!’

Envisioning Rivendell as it was at night was easy, and as the pair went between T’lara started the process to imprint Rivendell on Omath as her emergency visuals. 

Blinking in, Omath landed hastily, ‘we need a healer and fighters. Bifur has stayed behind, but we rescued a family from Trolls, they fled before Omath’s flame and they might come back!’

In seconds Elrond had removed his flowing robe and revealed a sensible shirt and trousers, he grabbed a small bag Estel had run for and also in seconds, two armed Dwarves ran up, Nori and Fili offered their swords if Omath could take three extra people. 

‘She says so, we’ll be going between low and fast’, T’lara quickly spoke, ‘you will not feel Omath beneath you and it will be cold and totally dark but will only last to a count of eight.’

Omath was only two wing breaths distance from the ground when she flicked between, reappearing nearly at ground level, her riders scrambling to dismount, except for T’lara, who remained mounted just in case she and Omath were needed to fight the Trolls.

Bifur was apparently remarking how quick they’d been, only seconds, really. As Elrond bent over an unconscious child, a little girl, Nori remarked, ‘we did that time between thing, didn’t we? Just guessing what we did was about the most dangerous thing you can do?’

T’lara agreed, ‘but done by a highly experienced pair,’ she pointed out, then Elrond was by Omath, ‘we need to get the children to Rivendell first.’

Swiftly, the children were loaded onto Omath, and with Elrond as well, the green dragon made her first trip back to Rivendell. In only a few minutes, she’d been back for the children’s parents, then the three dwarves.

Bifur was already being questioned by Elrond’s sons about the Trolls, with his cousin Bofur translating the ancient Khuzdul.

‘And they ran from Omath’s flame,’ said one of the Twins, with Bifur nodding enthusiastically. 

‘I doubt they’ll trouble anyone further tonight, and tomorrow we can find their lair and destroy them,’ said the other Twin.

‘Won’t they be more dangerous in daylight?’

‘No, less, answered the Twin who spoke first. ‘Trolls are turned to stone in sunlight, we will just to have to dig them out.’

‘Maybe Omath can help with the digging, or perhaps be ready to flame if needed?’

‘Perhaps, my lady, but for tonight you are exhausted.’ Elrond had appeared from the dark. 

‘How are the people?’ yawned T’lara.

‘Minor injuries, except for the little girl with concussion the family is mostly just frightened. Even the girl should be fine in a couple of days.’

‘Excellent!’ T’lara yawned again, ‘sorry, so sleepy, this is what timing it does to you.’

‘How did you find the Trolls?’asked Elrond as they walked towards Omath.

‘Bifur spotted them, is it normal for dwarves to have excellent night sight?’

‘Most normal, all dwarves have superb vision at night or in dark places,’ Elrond replied. ‘But right now, l think you need rest, T’lara. Now don’t argue with a healer,’ the elf smiled. ‘Nori told me you and Omath went time between several timed during the rescue, and that it tired the rider dreadfully. If you are to help us tomorrow at all, you must rest tonight.’

T’lara promised, even as Elrond pointed out Balin was waiting to wrap her in a blanket and escort her to Omath. Yawning more, she wandered towards the silver haired dwarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this version, the Dwarves didn’t encounter the Trolls before Rivendell. Honestly l didn’t know where the Trolls were until Bifur spotted them.  
> Canonically, there are an incident or two of candidates stealing dragons for a ride!   
> The rock entombed Weyrlings are canon, too


	10. Talking and Trolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking, sleeping, a test, and Trolls

Balin and T’lara talk.

Taking a blanket with him, Balin approached the greenrider. Gently, he folded it’s warmth around the shivering lady. With a sudden fall in temperature the summer evening had turned unexpectedly cool.

T’lara turned towards Balin. Holding the blanket one handed about her, she took the hand Balin held out to her.

‘Would you care to sit by Omath with me?’

Sleepily the green arranged her forelegs for the two people to curl up between her legs, the blanket now draped over both of them.

‘Oh! Omath’s really warm,’ Balin exclaimed. 

‘It’s the sun bathing dragons do. Omath has stored the heat in her hide and is letting it out now.’

Balin snuggled back, ‘there are many advantages to having a dragon..’

‘Having a dragon look to you, that is being an impressed pair. There are many things about being a Rider. Great things like never fearing loneliness or facing anything by yourself. Having a huge best friend to help you do anything! Always having someone to love you. Then there are the difficulties, fighting Thread. Although you can have a human life partner, you cannot marry.’

‘Why is that? Not marrying, l mean.’

‘It’s complicated. When a female dragon rises to mate, all the males chase her. Eventually one of the males will catch her. As l said, the rider becomes the dragon. Sometimes, when a Senior Queen flies, and the Weyrleader’s position is up for grabs, or if several greens fly together, things can get quite violent, and in a formal relationship like marriage people also get jealous. The riders of gold and green dragons understand that female dragons, especially the greens are fickle and frivolous with their affections, and often mate with many different dragons.’

I

Balin didn’t respond, aware T’lara would cease to speak if he interrupted her. 

‘This is why my marriage was void once l impressed,’ she finished.

‘And little Frisk?’

‘He is one of those blues, whether Dragon or Firelizard that has no interest in females, he just does his own thing. Actually, T’lara yawned, ‘l was thinking, if l do go on this mad Quest, l could send Frisk to Estel everyday, in case we get in trouble, and if Omath and l can’t get away, Frisk could, and if he doesn’t visit it means we are in deep trouble.’

‘That’s not a bad idea!’ Balin agreed slowly. ‘You will be coming with us? He seemed to T’lara to be almost taking it personally if she came along or not.

‘I haven’t decided for sure yet, Perhaps tomorrow after we’ve seen to the Trolls..and’ T’lara fell asleep mid sentence. Balin smiled, for all her maturity in years for a human, she could be remarkably young at times. He let her slide downwards a bit so she was pillowed on his shoulder and tucked up under the warm blanket against Omath, warm and safe in his arms. Balin relaxed, letting himself fall into sleep, part of him wondering why it felt so good next to the little dragon rider.

The sun was barely up when T’lara stirred the next morning. She woke, somewhat surprised by her position in Balin’s arms, the dwarf still deeply asleep. Wriggling about, T’lara freed herself of Balin, but woke Omath.

‘Go back to sleep, Omath, l’ll be back in a minute,’ T’lara mind spoke her dragon as she slipped off to what she now knew as the bathroom.

Coming back, Dwalin greeted her, scowling a bit. Not that it bothered T’lara, her father was an expert at intimidating scowls. ‘What are you doing with my brother?’

‘Nothing at all! He’s just being friendly!’

‘We clearly have a different definition of friendly then,’ growled Dwalin. ‘Sleeping cuddled up like that!’

T’lara stared wide eyed at Dwalin. ‘We only talked snuggled up to Omath for some warmth. I fell asleep and l guess so did Balin!’ She folded her arms and glared at the burly dwarf, ‘l can’t believe you think l compromised your brother in some way!’

Slightly taken aback, Dwalin stared back, ‘it’s your reputation l’m worried about,’ he finally said after a brief staring match.

T’lara stared in astonishment, then once again her sense of the ridiculous overcame her, ‘you’re worried about MY reputation?’ she finally giggled. ‘As a green rider my reputation was lost the day l impressed Omath. Green riders are supposed to be gossips, flirtatious, and promiscuous. I, however, broke that mould! Never fear for my reputation!’

Dwalin blinked. ‘What do you mean lass, broke the mould?’

‘I was not a typical green rider, though green riders are more dedicated than others believe. I guess because l had a baby to care for, so l was stronger, more duty driven. That, and being a Lord Holder’s daughter, trained from childhood for leadership. When l chose to stand as a candidate, l did it with the knowledge my life would be lived in service to the Weyr, and the people of Pern, not what l wanted. That’s probably why l never had a weyrmate, another human partner, to make me free to serve my duty.’

Dwalin stared. Finally T’lara spoke, ‘Are you married? I know your brother isn’t because he said so..’

‘Aye, l’m married and have two boys. Balin never found his One.’

‘His One?’

Suddenly feeling in control again, with knowledge he could speak of, Dwalin answered T’lara, ‘the One Mahal makes for you, the other half of your soul.’

‘Sounds a little like Impression! How would you know this person, your other half?’

‘Ya just do!’ Dwalin grumbled.

‘Like a dragon knows,’ again T’lara drew the comparison to dragon riding. 

‘Leave Balin alone!’ Dwalin suddenly snarled.

‘I am not doing anything with Balin. He is a kind person who has offered friendship to me. I too, feel friendship for Balin. I swear to you now, on Omath’s shell, l have not, and will not compromise Balin in any way!’ T’lara held out her belt knife, ‘l will take a blood oath on this if you must have it.’

‘Not necessary,’ Dwalin’s voice and expression had lightened. 

‘You shit!’ T’lara laughed, ‘That was a test! Did l pass?’

From behind Dwalin, Thorin appeared. ‘You did, my lady.’

‘I should be angry,’ T’lara giggled as Balin walked up carrying the folded blanket.

‘Omath is playing in the river,’ Balin smilingly informed T’lara.

‘Oh..and no doubt the rest of you Dwarves are playing in the river with her?’

‘And Estel with Frisk too, l believe.’ Balin was still smiling as he suggested, ‘some early breakfast might be nice.’

‘First breakfast,’ piped up Bilbo. ‘Toast and jam’ he announced, ‘later the elves will no doubt later do porridge and maybe scrambled eggs.’

Bilbo the laid down the bundle he carried, revealing stacks of toast, still warm from being cloth wrapped. By now everyone but Omath was out of the river, and even Frisk and a couple of early rising elves were polishing off Bilbo’s toast. 

It was a beautiful sunny morning , and so T’lara decided to go over her gear, seeing as it would be time to hunt the Trolls soon enough. 

Before long, she had Dori, an expert with anything that could be cut out or sewn, helping her with Omath’s harness and riding straps. Bifur recruited his cousins to help clean and oil the harness as T’lara checked her helmet, goggles and weyrhide clothes, telling Bifur (who chuckled appreciative of her words) that in all her time as a dragonrider she’d never before flown a flaming dragon while wearing a dress!

Then her healing supplies, some bandages, and numbweed. To her astonishment, Oin had never heard of, and was fascinated by the numbweed. T’lara had a couple of pots of the stuff, and even seeds from an extra good Southern variety she’d been meaning to plant.

‘What are these?’ Bilbo needed to know what the tiny black seeds were. 

‘Numbweed seeds.’

‘We could plant them and grow more?’ Bilbo inquired. 

‘We could,’ said T’lara excitedly, ‘the stuff will grow anywhere, and it’s not hard to boil down to the paste.’

‘We elves can grow almost anything, as can Hobbits,’ smiled Elrond. ‘Perhaps Bilbo can see the gardeners to plant some.’

Bilbo nodded eagerly, and held out a handkerchief for T’lara to pour some of the seeds into. As the Hobbit disappeared, Elrond sat comfortably beside T’lara. 

‘As you know, l am a healer, T’lara, but l know little of healing dragons.’

The greenrider considered, ‘dragons really don’t get ill. They might eat something that disagrees with them, especially when young, but that’s rare. Usually they only require healing after Threadfall or some other kind of accidental injury. The wings are especially vulnerable to this, in fact once Omath spent several months in a wing sling after a Thread injury. Stitching, bandaging and general wound and broken bone treatment is much the same as for horses. 

The main differences are the wings, and it is easy enough to see the bones, tendons and and the wing surface there when necessary. Occasionally, a dragon will bite it’s tongue, or damage a tooth chewing Firestone, again it is sensible treatment like stitches or even tooth removal. If you were to treat Omath, the real difference is the blood and muscles. 

Dragons you see, have ichor, green blood. Their muscle is a shining silver fibre, but really, put that aside and treatment is like any other large animal, except of course dragons have several hearts beside their main chest one, here, in the neck,’ she touched Frisk who had flown in to be a model, ‘here in the back, and finally one just behind the hips. Lungs are normal, as is the rest of the body.’

Elrond listened closely, ‘l hope l never need such knowledge,’ he finally responded. ‘For l believe you would attend to Omath yourself if you could..’

‘And if l could not, we’d likely both be critically injured or dead. No dragon survives the rider’s death, you see.’ T’lara kept to herself the one reason a dragon would survive the rider because it was not relevant to Omath, for only a Queen with eggs on the Hatching sands lived, and even then only until the eggs hatched, and the baby dragons paired with humans would care for them.

‘T’lara, you do not need to help us deal with Trolls today, you risked enough last night, you know. There are warriors enough here to kill a few Trolls.’ Elrond was quiet, but his words were considered and gentle. 

‘Omath would never forgive me! She’s keen to dig the Trolls out, and happy to flame them again! Frisk too, he wants to help, we will have to get some small Firestone pieces for him.’

‘Very well, then, we leave in half an hour.’

T’lara guided the Troll hunting expedition. Although she and Bifur on Omath had flown for nearly half an hour, they’d been fluffing about a bit, and in serious flight it was only a few minutes, an hour or so on horses. 

The burnt out ruined house stood in a clearing that had clearly once been productive fields, in fact there was still fruit trees untouched, and a low meadow of grain. 

T’lara picked a round red fruit and tasted it, it proved sweet and crunchy so she had another as she waited for Omath to listen and smell, seeking where the Trolls could be hidden.

By the time the horse riders arrived, she and Omath stood by a door, with Frisk on the roof of what looked like a cross between a cave and a dugout house like..thingy.

‘In here,’ she whispered to Elrond, who was now clad, like the other Elven warriors in shining armour, on foot as they’d left their horses a little distance away. 

Soft footed, she moved up onto the roof with Frisk, Elrond one step behind. 

‘Omath is going to rip out the door once Frisk has dug a little hole and puffed some flame down it. We are just waiting for Frisk to utilise the Firestone properly as he hasn’t chewed this one before.’

After a couple of minutes, in which Elrond’s people deployed themselves, and Bifur, Bofur, Dwalin, Kili and Fili who had insisted on coming along also took up positions nearby with Gandalf standing beside Elrond. 

Frisk began to dig, worming his way into the soil that covered the cave, suddenly he chittered loudly and there was the unique smell of burning Firestone as Frisk let loose into the dark of the Troll hideout. 

At that precise moment, Omath hooked her front talons on to the door and tore it away, her shoulder muscles rippling with the effort. 

Stumbling, blinded by smoke and on fire, the Trolls bumbled out towards Omath, who finished off her role by throughly immersing the Trolls in dragon flame just as the sun turned them to stone.

As the dwarves and elves gathered about, Omath really went to work, opening the Troll’s hideout right up to wind and sun. 

Only then did the people go in, many complaining, in Omath’s opinion, foolishly of the smell, as Frisk warbled and pranced, claiming he’d managed the whole affair by himself.

‘Typical Firelizard,’ T’lara fondly chided the little blue as the others searched through the Trolls stash of things. 

Surprising things were found. Barrels of salt pork and several sides of bacon, still good were strapped to Omath. The dwarves buried two chests of gold much to the amusement of the elves. 

Then Gandalf found some magnificent swords, and showed them to Elrond; to T’lara’s amazement the weapons had names! Gandalf kept one called Glamdring, and took another Elrond named as Orcrist to give to Thorin. Fili was entrusted with a sharp, elegant knife for Bilbo. 

Then it was back to Rivendell, once everyone had admired the now turned to stone Trolls. Some thought them a good, grim reminder that travel in Middle earth was never safe, others, like Glorfindel thought them rather decorative in their own brutish fashion. T’lara decided they might look interesting in a few years time, weathered and maybe the odd bird’s nest or two.

Bilbo had second breakfast organised, and though the elves thought it a Hobbitish extravagance, this morning all the Troll hunters were glad to see it, and at T’lara was happy with some scrambled eggs and tea. At first, she had been horrified there was no Klah, but tea was turning out to be an acceptable substitute for the hot drink made of spicy tree bark. 

Balin and Bilbo glued themselves to her sides at the breakfast table, and Frisk again was spending his time with Estel, and T’lara, yawning, watched with amusement the little blue sharing the boy’s breakfast. 

‘My lady,’ it was Rivendell’s Lord, now back in his ordinary clothes who spoke. ‘Perhaps you should take a little more rest until lunchtime.’

‘A good idea, l think l will curl up with Omath again. The green dragon was already asleep in a sunny patch in the gardens, and T’lara joined her. Just for once, washing off Firestone stink could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to say last chapter that the Dwarves mutinied at being captured by the Trolls, and delegated Bifur to sort it out that night. This chapter, we see the final fate of the Trolls. 
> 
> Also, if you want to hear the songs T’lara sang, go to YouTube, and search ‘Music of Pern’ to listen to gorgeous versions of Anne McCaffrey’s teaching songs and ballads, yes this is what T’lara is supposed to have played and sung. What authors forget when they post half asleep!


	11. Magic, Secrets and Mithril

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after the Trolls are dealt with. More singing, and T’lara signs a contract.

Lunch was a pleasant meal of a cold, yet tasty soup, with crusty bread followed by platters of cheese and fresh fruit. Woken by Balin in time to wash up and change, T’lara enjoyed it with a lemon herby tea Dori had brewed.

Estel had bathed Frisk, and Nori had recruited his brothers help to get Omath bathed and lightly oiled. Nori had also kept his word over disposal of Frisk and Omath’s Firestone ash. 

Relaxed, T’lara gave in to Estel’s begging for more Pernese music. ‘Alright, Alright, how about my promise of Omath and Frisk’s favourite song! It is the Ballad of Moreta’s Ride. Omath and Frisk like it so much because they get to sing the final verse.’

Strumming the borrowed guitar again, T’lara spoke of Moreta, Senior Weyrwoman of Fort Weyr, secluded on the Hatching Sands with her Queen, Orlith, as a terrible epidemic raged over Pern, killing thousands of craftspeople and Holders, taking the fighting numbers of fit dragonriders able to fly Thread down to a skeleton force as the Weyrs struggled to keep Pern Thread free.

Then she began to sing. Singing of how Moreta and Orlith left the eggs, and flew vital medication out to the Holds of Telgar Plains, with Moreta the only fit dragonrider who knew the area well enough to be sure everyone got their doses, for man and beast.

Then, disaster, as the exhausted pair made one final leap between time and space..a leap between forever. The final verse of a keening dirge, was sung by Omath and Frisk, without accompaniment and had the listeners sniffing and wiping their eyes, as T’lara now spoke, ‘in my time, with the help of a rediscovered intelligent machine, AIVAS, left behind by our ancestors, we were able to read the Fort Weyr records of Moreta’s time. We know now Orlith stayed on the Hatching Sands with her eggs. Moreta rode Holth, an older Queen, the former Weyrqueen of Fort. 

Leri, Holth’s aged rider stayed with Orlith, throughout the long hours as Holth and Moreta went time between again and again, delivering the vital medication, which we know was vaccine, out to the Telgar Plains. From other riders, whose reports we read, we know of vast areas of Pern with no one left alive, in other places, a handful of terrified people that the riders had to spend critical time reassuring and even helping administer the vaccine. This is another reason Moreta flew vaccine, as she was a highly regarded animal healer as well as Weyrwoman, and Telgar Plains had incredibly vast herds of horses. 

What went wrong? Even though the vaccine distribution only seemingly took a day, the chosen riders were on the go for many hours more than that, fighting time and exhaustion. Again, Fort Weyr records tell us only the fact the vaccine was delivered by dragonriders prevented planet wide panic but calming people took valuable time, and so the riders went deeper time between, compounding their already exhausted states. 

Holth was an older dragon, and had apparently developed the dangerous habit of a shallow leap from the ground to transfer between almost immediately. This is usually easily controlled by the dragon’s impressed rider, and something they are used to. Holth and Moreta were doing the dangerous task of riding someone else’s dragon.’ T’lara’s eyes flicked to Nori, and he understood T’lara wasn’t just telling a story. As the greenrider continued to speak, he began to truly understand what a plain stupid thing he’d done, stealing Omath.

‘When, exhausted, Holth jumped between so shallow, Moreta probably didn’t have their visuals set fully. Not an impressed pair, it seems from what Leri and Orlith were able to say, that Holth and Moreta, beyond exhaustion, panicked between. Unable to work together as closely as they should’ve, they seemed to have not used their emergency visuals until it was too late, and they were trapped between forever.’

‘What happened to Orlith and Leri?’ Normally shy Bombur quietly asked. 

‘They waited until the day Orlith’s eggs hatched. Between them, they displayed the eggs, with Leri suggesting the pattern Orlith rolled them in to. The Queen egg was on a little cushion of sand, surrounded by the other eggs placed in a perfect circle around it. Then at dawn, dragon and rider, they went between together forever.’

T’lara, as with all good story tellers, waited a few moments for that to sink in before going on, ‘it must have been a beautiful, if sad day. The tear stained record, written by an unnamed blue rider, states, ‘before dawn on Hatching Day, my dragon was woken by Orlith calling him. Leri needed help to harness and mount Orlith, so naturally l obeyed my former Weyrwoman. I mounted my dragon, and flew with Leri and Orlith up into the pre dawn sky. Suddenly, every Fort pair was there, and some from other Weyrs, l’m sure, the dragon’s colours muted and grey already with sorrow. Forming up into fighting Wings, we waited, as an escort for Leri and Orlith, as they too waited for the sun to peep over the horizon. 

Suddenly, Leri gave a hand signal, one she  
wouldn’t have used since her days leading the Queen’s Wing, the signal given by the Wingleader to fall on Thread. A heart beat later, Orlith blinked between, taking herself and Leri to Holth and Moreta.’

Galadriel dabbed her eyes delicately with a small silk handkerchief. ‘Truly a fitting end, for such brave ladies.’

Being comforted by Frisk, Estel finally asked, ‘couldn’t Leri and Orlith have stayed, together?’

‘No, they couldn’t. They stayed only for a while, until Orlith’s eggs were to Hatch, then they had to go together.’

‘Will that happen to you and Omath? And Frisk?’ Estel patted the blue who sat on his shoulder still.

‘Not for years, why you’ll be grown up and maybe have a little boy of your own by then! Frisk might stay, sometimes Firelizards do, you see.’

This reassured Estel, who sat up and laughed happily as T’lara began a happy song, that both Frisk and Omath again sang too.

‘Gather, gather, it’s a Gather Day,  
No work for us, and Thread’s Away!’

After that song, T’lara laid aside the guitar. Balin walked up and sat beside her. ‘Thorin wants to talk to ye, lass, about contracts and planning, and so on.’

The dwarves had a suite of rooms allocated to them, and it was to one of these rooms Balin escorted T’lara, her hand tucked into the crook of his left arm. Thorin was sitting waiting, doing that weird thing they called smoking. All the dwarves were fond of it, and Bilbo and Gandalf too. All had laughed uproariously when T’lara had pointed out that on Pern only dragonkind smoked!

Thorin put away his pipe, clearly finished for now. T’lara sat, and Thorin looked expectantly at her. ‘What do you wish to talk about, Thorin?’

‘What do you bring to this Quest if you join us?’

‘I would’ve thought it obvious, fighting skills on and off dragonback. Omath and Frisk, of course, you heard what they did against the Trolls, and you are aware of their other skills. Forty years of practicing diplomacy and politics. Leadership training and skills.’

‘Any money,’ asked Gloin, who had popped in.

‘Money?’

‘Coins used to buy things,’ explained Balin.

‘I have some good smithcraft marks,’ T’lara offered up her purse for inspection.

Gloin took the coins and shaking slightly handed them to Thorin, who stared sternly at T’lara. 

‘Where did you get these?’

‘From a leather worker, for the spotted cat hides l sold him. I am aware they’re solid silver, as marks they might be worthless here, but the metal should have a value.’

‘Lass, these are Mithril,’ stuttered a stunned Gloin. 

Confused, T’lara looked to Balin for an explanation. ‘Mithril is a type of silver, yes, but incredibly rare and obscenely valuable. This is common on your world?’

‘I thought it was just silver!’ T’lara pulled a set of spectacles out her pocket and looked hard at the coins. ‘They do have a funny shine,’ she remarked, handing the coins back to a visibly shaking Gloin. 

‘T’lara,’ it was Balin’s deep voice, very soft as his hand gripped hers a little more tightly, ‘these coins are immeasurably valuable, and this metal, Mithril, is sacred to us. This could be a sign of Mahal’s blessing, Thorin,’ he now addressed his King, ‘but l would need Oin to consult the Oracles to be sure.’

Amused, T’lara spoke, ‘l take it my financial obligations are met?’

Gloin answered, ‘and then some. Do you have any more of these?’

‘About twice as much, hidden in the gear Omath guards.’

Gloin had to sit down, his bankers heart nearly bursting with the thought of all that wealth. ‘No more shocks like that lass, or l’ll need my brother’s treatment he gives to Men with bad hearts!’

‘What of this then,’ she said, mischievously showing Gloin the magnificent black diamond ring she kept on a chain around her neck, only occasionally wearing it openly. 

Gingerly Gloin took it, breathing softly, ‘stunning, and whoever cut and set it knew what they were doing. Rose gold too,’ he said admiringly. 

‘Family Heirloom,’ winked T’lara, as the poor dwarf sat, and trembling poured himself a dram of whiskey from the flask he carried. 

‘No more shocks, please!’ Gloin all but begged. 

‘Alright then, so just don’t look closely at Frisk’s collar until tomorrow.’

Gloin took a long look at the Lady dragonrider. Her legs were stretched out under the table, her elbow resting on the surface of the table, lounging at her ease, comfortable with a king and his relatives, lords really. Suddenly it occurred to him that Mahal HAD to be involved, and he didn’t need his brother to confirm this. T’lara and her dragons (Gloin thought of Frisk as a tiny Dragon, but so did most of the dwarves) were there for a reason.

The lady herself seemed unaware of this as she, confidant as any Dwarf warrior negotiated the terms of her obligations and contract. Gloin also noticed Balin, though haggling hard as any dwarf would, never once let go of the lady’s hand. 

‘Better get Frisk to set his sign on Omath’s contract,’ T’lara commented as she rolled up the parchment of her contract, hard won for Thorin’s Company securing her services as an expert dragonrider and diplomatic negotiator. 

Omath had been contracted, pending her signature (in ichor as she couldn’t write) as an expert dispatcher of Trolls, Wargs and Orcs, along with being a manager of time, space and flame with Frisk as her assistant.

Grinning T’lara went off to see how Bilbo had got on with planting the numbweed seeds, Balin wandering along for company. 

As they walked, Balin informed her, ‘we will be leaving in ten days, after Mid Summer’s Eve. As it turns out, Thorin’s map has moon runes on it, a type of writing only able to be read under the light of a full Mid Summer moon.’

‘That sounds like something l’ve read about in the ancient times of my ancestors, like magic!’

‘Magic is exactly what it is, lass. You do use magic, don’t you.’

T’lara stared at Balin, ‘uh no, l was joking about the magic..’

‘But, going between, that’s magic, isn’t it?’ Balin’s dark eyes showed his confusion.

‘No, it’s not, it is a natural ability of Firelizards which was kept when my ancestors bred Dragons. There is nothing magical or supernatural about it at all,’ replied T’lara. 

Eyes wide with clear disbelief, Balin patted T’lara’s hand, ‘if you say so, lass, but everyone here uses some of magic. The air here in Rivendell fairly crackles with, and we Dwarves have different abilities with magic again to Elves. Even Bilbo, as a Hobbit has a natural magic around growing things. And the there’s Gandalf, of course you know he’s a wizard? That means he knows all about magic, and he says you use it!’

‘No again, it is just a Dragon’s natural abilities. No magic at all!’

‘If you say so, lass, keep your secrets, we Dwarves understand that, you know.’

‘Secrets! I’m not keeping secrets,’ T’lara felt a bit cross, now. ‘Secrets indeed,’ she grumbled. 

‘Everyone has secrets, surely dragonriders have many.’

T’lara shook her head, ‘no, it’s that non riders don’t ask, there are no secrets.’

‘Next you’ll be saying you go by your real name, not a use name,’ Balin countered.

That made T’lara blink. ‘My name is the only one l use, you mean you have a different name?’ Surprise now won out over crossness.

‘We have a name only other Dwarves ever know, and then only immediate family, your spouse and perhaps some close friends. There is a secret dwarf language too.’

‘I knew there’s a secret dwarf language Balin, it was you who told me it’s all Bifur speaks.’

‘Oh, yes, l forgot l told you that,’ he chuckled. 

‘Any other secrets?’

‘Yes, hair braids, and our hand language and some runes, for starters.’

‘Do you make a hobby of secrets?’ T’lara teased. 

‘Not really, once many years ago, we were more open with our ways and beliefs. In time, this was used against us. Now we guard our culture closely.’

‘Hhm, well then, l don’t blame you!’

‘You can ask questions, lass’, it was Dwalin, rolling in to walk on the other side of his brother. ‘We’ll all give you the answer if we can, and tell you if we can’t, fair enough?’

‘Fair enough,’ T’lara responded as the three continued to walk through Rivendell’s lush gardens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Omath will have to accept a contract, and T’lara has a further example of how different this world is to Pern. I think poor Gloin is going to get very drunk!


	12. Dragon Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How a Dragon signs a contract as part of a Dwarven Company. Ori draws a scene shown to him by Omath of many years ago, before Omath could even fly much.

Dragon Contract

That evening, just before dark, Balin and Thorin decided it would be a good time to go over Omath’s contract have her ‘sign’ it, that is, seal it with a few drops of ichor 

Dwalin, as the expert with weapons, and Thorin’s shield brother was the one to take a sharp dagger to the area of Omath’s left leg equivalent to a person’s wrist, and also to Frisk.

The few drops of green ichor that fell from each winged beast were dropped upon a contract that bound both the green dragon and the blue firelizard to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.

Oin was fascinated, ‘you weren’t joking about the green blood!’

‘Ichor,’ Omath’s voice was clear to the deaf healer’s mind. Then she whistled with relief as T’lara applied numbweed to the small wound, taking away the pain, stopping the slight seep of ichor and sealing the cut from infection. 

Estel copied her with Frisk’s tiny cut, and then T’lara handed a pot of numbweed to Oin. ‘Works just as well on people and other animals. I’ll hang to this pot, and l’ll leave this tiny one with Estel. Now, Estel, when the numbweed plants here have flowered and set seed, it is the time to harvest them, the seeds to grow more, the leaves to be boiled down into paste. You just crush them and toss them in a pot, no water should be added. Once a thick paste is made, you pot it up and use it on all sorts of wounds.’ Estel nodded, listening carefully. ‘I trust you with this, Estel.’

Gilraen had been quietly listening. ‘I know a little of herbs and healing, l will help my son make sure this gets done.’

‘Thank you, Gilraen, l do appreciate it.’

Estel asked permission to go play in the gardens with Frisk, and Omath went too, walking along the pathways in the strange almost hopping gait of a land bound dragon, much to the amusement of all the people.

Finally, Omath settled herself comfortably and allowed Ori to sketch her. T’lara sat nearby, and Omath spoke to her, ‘do you remember the Gather where you rode the winning horse?’

‘That was quite a while ago, love.’

‘True, but can l show Ori for him to draw it?’

‘Yes, of course.’ T’lara smiled in memory. Omath had been young, not flying yet, and R’cor but a babe in arms when her father had requested her help. Help from at T’lara to ride a certain horse, one she’d worked on, on her visits home to Fort Hold for five years. A magnificent smoked cream stallion, who Lord Groghe had asked she ride in one final race.

Bendan Weyr riders had carried her, Omath, R’cor and Frisk to the Fort Hold Gather, to forfill her last obligation to Fort, by riding Fort’s entry in the long distance race for the day, Dart, the stallion she’d trained.

Omath showed Ori the scene for him to draw. A packed field of fourteen racehorses turning the last corner of a sand track. The green grass tracks had been dug up due to Threadfall, and the horses raced on soft beige sand, nearly the colour of the mane and tail of the stallion T’lara rode. 

Her hair not yet cut as a fighting rider, the Dwarves saw, as Ori drew, T’lara’s long thick braid of nearly black hair that flew behind her, as crouched on her mount as only a race rider did she and her horse swept past the finish post in first place.

The flag went up, yellow lattice on a brown field, Fort’s colours. T’lara rode back to the race attendants, to loud cheering and the excited chirps of Omath and Frisk, her son still too young to do anything but gurgle happily at seeing his mother. 

T’lara had spent the next day being feted as a race winning rider. The Fort Hold folk seemed delighted by her win, and as equally pleased that she would be taking to the skies of Pern as a fighting rider, for the common Hold and Craftsmen of Fort thought it a reasonable thing, that Lord Groghe gave his daughter to the Weyr as a rider, to risk death for the people of Pern.

Then it was back to Bendan Weyr, and a year later she and Omath flew Thread together for the time as fully fledged Green Pair. 

T’lara explained this as Ori’s hands flew to draw the picture as Omath showed him. Balin took it as Ori finished. There were several small drawings around the main one of T’lara and Dart winning the race.

The Fort Hold flag on the winnner’s pole was one. Frisk flittering about the horses another. The winning horse, Dart, his cream coat dark with sweat, T’lara herself, accepting first prize for her birth Hold.

‘This is accurate lass?’ Balin questioned the green rider. ‘Omath says so,’ Ori answered for T’lara. 

Balin looked at the pencil drawing of T’lara, young, smiling and happy, and drew a deep breath before turning to smile at T’lara. ‘You’re a pretty woman still, but you were beautiful indeed when you were young! I can see why your husband was loath to lose you, though he didn’t deserve you!’

Shyly T’lara answered Balin, actually she felt like a young teenager again. ‘You really think l’m pretty?’

‘Aye, lass,’ Balin pressed a soft kiss to the back of T’lara’s hand and she blushed like a girl. 

‘Enough with the mushy stuff,’ complained Kili. ‘Now you’re officially a member of the Company, and Omath too, l was wondering if l could have a dragon ride? And my brother too?’

T’lara laughed. ‘Best help harness your mount!’

Kili went eagerly off to help Fili do just that, as Omath was bored and keen to fly. 

Soon enough T’lara was fitting fighting straps to the brothers, who were bantering and attempting to charm even her, an older woman. 

Finally, she got Fili sorted out in front of her, and Kili behind. Both brothers whooped in sheer excitement as Omath leaped strongly into the air, her massive wings unfurling and driving the air backwards so hard Thorin and Balin were nearly knocked off their feet.

Grinning, T’lara asked Omath to put herself through a real work out, with plenty of heartstopping aerial antics that only a Green could perform. Omath, pleased to stretch her wings happily obeyed. 

Half an hour later, Omath landed, her eyes glowing blue with happiness, for she’d really enjoyed the dwarf brother’s enthusiasm. 

Exhausted and elated, Fili and Kili slid down Omath’s shoulder, chattering with glee over riding the great winged beast, and then to everyone’s surprise, Omath spoke. To Thorin. 

‘If we, my Rider and l, are part of your group, then you, as leader, should ride me.’

Thorin blinked and scowled with surprise! A smiling Dwalin agreed, ‘Aye Thorin, ride the dragon!’

At that, Thorin strode forward, unwilling to let the other dwarves see he was not pleased with the thought of riding the great beast. It didn’t help that the blasted rider was grinning like a drunk dwarf.

Thorin gripped the plaited leather rope hung down Omath’s side aid in mounting. Not having touched the green before, he was surprised by the softness of the dragon’s hide. Seating himself behind T’lara, he allowed the woman to fasten the flying straps about him. Unlike Balin who had shocked Thorin by being so willing to hold onto T’lara, he instead took the option of tucking his hands through the back of her belt. 

‘Alright, Thorin, we’ll take off and fly over Rivendell. Then maybe you’d like to suggest a direction?’

‘East,’ he stated.

Ignoring Thorin’s grumpy tone of voice, T’lara spoke, ‘East it is then,’ as she gave the double arm pump sign for lift off. This of course was to warn by standers to be careful to be clear of Omath as she leaped upwards. 

Thorin’s hands tightened on T’lara’s belt in surprise as the dragon’s upwards force was somewhat greater then he had expected.

The dragon winged over Rivendell and circled twice before following the direction to go East, up into the high cold air streams that flow over the Misty Mountains. 

T’lara had already considered that Thorin wanted a look ahead at the possible path the dwarves would take for their journey. It all looked steep and treacherous to T’lara. There was quite a lot of wild animals to be seen, so there would be good hunting for Omath.

Suddenly, T’lara felt Thorin lean forward, and felt his breath on her cheek as he spoke, ‘can we land? In the clearing to the right?’

Nodding, T’lara directed Omath down. The clearing was large, and there were clear signs of the passage of a large group of both two and four legged creatures through it very recently indeed. 

‘Do not dismount,’ T’lara warned Thorin. ‘Omath senses danger.’ 

The green dragon was growling almost soundlessly but both people could feel the vibration through her body, and her eyes whirled red. ‘Orcs and Wargs,’ hissed Thorin, ‘just through those trees.’

‘Hang on tight,’ whispered T’lara. ‘We will take off and go between, it will be cold and dark, but we will be with you, even though you won’t feel us.’

Omath’s great wings lifted as the green sprang. A length from the ground Thorin heard T’lara’s verbal command to between. On the count of eight they were above Rivendell again, circling down to land on a large lawn, one of Omath’s favourite landing spaces. 

Almost before he was down off Omath, Thorin was bellowing for Balin and Dwalin. Nori appeared and helped T’lara quickly unharness Omath, telling T’lara to hurry, as Thorin would likely want to talk to her about what had just happened. 

Leaving Nori to hang up Omath’s harness, T’lara jogged after Thorin, soon catching up .

‘T’lara saw the tracks, and Omath smelled them and was growling. I heard one address the other as Commander Bolg, and a brief discussion about a price on my head, and Fili and Kili too,’ Thorin explained. 

‘Is that what they were saying!’ exclaimed T’lara. 

Suddenly Omath burst in on the conversation. ‘They wanted to do terrible things to you, but l will flame them first,’ the green said determinedly. 

Dwalin looked uncomfortable, and Balin frankly evasive. ‘Is this what l was summoned to in Bree? When l missed that meeting and you two went in my place, did you encounter people trying to collect this bounty?’

No one spoke. ‘You should’ve told me!’ Thorin snapped. ‘I suppose the tale of having met the Grey Wizard there is a lie too?’

‘Now that is entirely true!’Gandalf strode up from behind the four. ‘I suggested that it was best not to tell you.’

‘Why?’ Thorin was radiating anger like a beacon. 

‘Because you’d tell the Lads and they’ll over react,’ explained Gandalf. 

Again Omath spoke, ‘none of you will be hurt while my Rider and l can prevent it.’

‘I think we need to add a new clause to yours and Omath’s’ contracts,’ Balin was next to T’lara, speaking quietly, ‘if you will do it, of course.’

‘What?’she asked, feeling cheeky, ‘defender of dwarves?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you go, more changes to the story. Do you think Thorin liked the dragon ride, or did he feel ill like Dwalin? Clearly, Fili and Kili like dragon riding.


	13. Mirrormere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T’lara and Omath take Balin on a scouting mission.

‘No, Protector of the Line of Durin,’ Balin answered. 

Thorin stiffened, ‘l need no woman to protect me!’ he growled. 

‘Yes, you do!’ answered Balin. ‘My brother can’t be there all the time, and if necessary T’lara could get you and the lads out of trouble with Omath by air. No Orcs in the sky!’

Dwalin nodded agreement. ‘I see,’ snapped Thorin, ‘you have all ganged up on me!’ the dwarf king growled.

T’lara laughed. ‘How far is it to Erebor?’

‘Nearly two hundred leagues,’ answered Balin. 

‘About six hundred miles,’ he clarified, smiling. 

‘If Omath and l left soon, we could fly all night, reach Erebor tomorrow morning and have a good look about before coming back here between,’ T’lara suggested. ‘Then, we know a bit more about what’s going on at that Mountain, and Omath and l will have visuals to go there between if we need to.’

‘You shouldn’t go alone,’ Dwalin objected. 

‘I will have Frisk.’

‘I mean you should have a person with you, not another animal, no matter how smart.’

T’Lara couldn’t resist teasing the warrior a little, ‘do you mean an elf, because l thought the elves weren’t supposed to know the full plan.’

‘Not an elf!’ growled Dwalin. 

‘Dwalin! Do you mean you are offering?,’ the wide eyed green rider suggested. 

Thorin was already sick of what he considered T’lara’s ill placed humour. ‘He means Balin, dragon rider and l think you know it!’

‘Of course l do, can’t a person have a little fun?’

‘Not with me or my bodyguard!’

‘Ok! Sorry! So, Balin’s up for a long flight? Obviously, we’ll take gear with if we decide to camp or rest for a while. Frisk will run messages if necessary. Balin, we need to get you a helmet, goggles and a flying jacket.’

‘All taken care of. I thought this might happen and l’ve altered some of our spare gear and l got some materials from the elves to make a few sets of goggles and helmets to fit dwarf heads,’ Dori volunteered. He’d been sitting on a stone bench sewing so no one had noticed him until he spoke. 

‘Well done!’ Thorin praised. 

‘So shall we? Go to Erebor and look about?’

‘If you feel happy to do so but..’

‘But if we get into difficulties we’ll pop back between to here, safe and sound. I won’t risk our safety.’

‘Very well, how quickly can you get ready.’

T’lara thought.. change her clothes, harness Omath. Get a few blankets, some travel rations and a couple of water bags. ‘Half an hour should be enough.’

Balin helped her harness Omath once she’d changed. How or when Dwalin had acquired the sheepskin she laid on Omath’s neck for Balin to sit on, she didn’t want to know but Balin’s backside would no doubt thank his brother for it. Some rolled up blankets containing healing supplies were strapped to Omath, and finally a burlap bag of travelling food. Lastly, around her neck like a horse, Omath wore two canvas water bags.

It was afternoon tea time by then, and Bilbo fussed that T’lara and Balin really ought to eat before they left. The Hobbit was so insistent that dragon rider and dwarf gave in to him, drinking tea and eating sandwiches and cakes which were, T’lara had to agree, very nice indeed. 

Full of cake and tea, she climbed aboard an amused Omath, Frisk seated on the dragon’s head, with Omath grumbling the fire lizard could fly by himself instead of hitching a lift.

Balin climbed up behind her, settling himself comfortably on the sheepskin as T’lara attached fighting straps to them both. As he’d done before, Balin slipped his arms about T’lara as he sat behind her, supposedly using her for extra support while Omath launched upwards, but really enjoying giving the human woman a cuddle. As Omath leveled out some distance above Rivendell, Balin kept his arms about T’lara in a way she found most pleasant and comfortable. 

Balin leaned in, his deep voice soft in T’lara’s ear. ‘We’re very high!’

T’lara turned her head to answer him, her smooth human cheek almost against his lips. ‘Yes, we are, Omath is looking for the high thermal winds that l’ve seen those birds you told me are Eagles riding, now if Omath can find those, we can glide over the Mountains quite quickly.’

T’lara felt Balin smile against her cheek. ‘Might it still be daylight when we reach the other side?’

‘I doubt it but the stars will be bright tonight with no low cloud cover. Is there something you want to see?’

‘Yes..Thorin told you l know a lot about the pathways and trails out here, the tracks through the Wilds and what is out here?’

‘He did, yes.’

‘There is a place called Moria, an old dwarf settlement.’

‘I don’t know we will have time to go there.’

‘No, lass, the other side of Moria is Mirrormere, where my ancestor, Durin the Deathless drank from the waters, and saw the stars like a crown about his head.’

‘And you’d like to drink from it like Durin. Hey, we could fill one of our water bags from Mirrormere!’

Balin suddenly knew. His arms tightened a little around the woman he just believed would be his wife one day. ‘Aye lass, Thorin and the others would take it as a great blessing on our Quest, if we brought back water from Mirrormere.’

‘Then let’s, if it’s safe and possible.’

Balin leaned slightly into T’lara’s back, continuing to hug her as the flight went on. To see Mirrormere, to drink the water, to bring back to the other dwarves some of the water from their most sacred pool was a dream, and one made possible only by a dragon rider if it happened. Full of new hopefor the success of the Quest, Balin relaxed as their flight continued swiftly, Omath having caught the thermals as they’d all hoped, and she glided swiftly over the rugged Mountain peaks, Frisk a blue blur by her side. 

The sun set and stars rose in a beautiful night sky. Now T’lara had done a lot of night dragon riding, but this was a perfect night, with the stars shining so brightly against a sky like the darkest ink. Omath soared on, and T’lara found herself enjoying this night ride for the romance of it’s perfection and for the gentle embrace of her dwarf passenger. 

On and on they flew, little Frisk chittering and darting about their heads. The different constellations of stars changed, rising and sinking against the night sky, and Balin gently explained them to T’lara, his breath warm against her cheek as he pointed out one very important star that could show direction to a traveler whether on land or sea, or in the air. 

Carefully T’lara made mental notes, as navigation was important to dragon riders, you needed to know where you were, where you should be, and were you could go, after all. 

It was cold as they flew over the mountains, and with the hot, high thermals ceasing, Omath’s wings were getting more exercise, so the dragon maintained her body temperature and some of this flowed through to her riders, though Balin being a dwarf was coping well, and T’lara was warmly clad including a green scarf Dori had made her for being nice to his brothers, but she was starting to feel colder. 

Balin kept up his closeness to T’lara, not just because he liked it, but sharing his own body’s warmth to help keep her warmer. She was almost at shivering point, after all. Then, he realised. They were almost over the Misty Mountains. 

‘We need to go south a little,’ and T’lara nodded. Balin felt the play of Omath’s muscles, rippling under her hide as they changed direction. 

‘There it is,’ Balin’s right hand pointed, and the excitement in his voice was clear as T’lara asked Frisk to go first and scout for danger.

‘Will he be alright?’

‘Frisk is well trained to come back to us if anything bothers him. Like Omath, he is carrying a light load of Firestone to flame in an emergency, but he knows it’s a bigger priority to get back to tell me what’s going on.’

Balin simply nodded, Omath, Frisk and T’lara had been a fighting team for a good while after all. 

Two minutes later Frisk appeared, chirping happily which Balin took as a good sign. ‘Frisk says small Orcs..’ 

‘Goblins,’ returned Balin grimly. 

‘Yes, many miles north of us. Too far to be a threat. Nothing dangerous in the sky or water, and believe me Frisk would’ve been in Mirrormere to check!’

Balin chuckled at that, as Omath landed neatly beside a crystal clear mountain lake. Looking around her Omath too declared the area safe as she crouched to let her riders down before taking a long refreshing drink. 

‘How do they know it’s safe?’ asked Balin.

‘They have searched the thoughts of nearby creatures, we are safe for a little while,’ T’lara unstrapped the water bags Omath wore. She emptied them onto a number of small dry looking shrubs and then bent to refill them from the clear cold water. 

Balin was staring into the water, almost in a trance. ‘Look, lass, look,’ and he grabbed T’lara’s hand as she took a drink of ice cold water. 

The green rider looked into the water, and saw the reflection of the stars around Balin’s head. ‘Like a crown!’ the dwarf whispered, awestruck. 

To her surprise, Balin was speaking softly in some strange tongue, all deep words like they should be spoken in the dark, with jaw cracking rolled ‘R’s thrown in. 

She waited respectfully by Omath’s side, not sure what Balin was doing but it was clearly important. Just as T’lara was starting to wonder if Balin was going to stop, Frisk burst from the water, spinning madly, his eyes the brilliant green of happiness. 

Balin sat back hard on his rear with the fright the little lizard had given him, and chuckled softly as T’lara gave Frisk a gentle scolding the blue fire lizard ignored. 

‘We’d better go, just in case,’ T’lara suggested, and both remounted Omath who with a strong leap launched herself again. Her eyes whirled blue with a tiny hint of lavender which meant the green was just starting to feel the stress of tiredness. 

‘Over there,’ she mind spoke her Rider. Over there was the top of a sheer wall of rock, flattened on top, giving a nice area for a dragon to land and rest, but no way foes could approach except by air themselves. 

T’lara turned her head to speak to Balin, ‘we’re going to land, and let Omath rest for a couple of hours.’ She heard the dwarf’s answer, warm breath against her cheek, ‘and you too, lass,’ he answered. 

They were on the top of the rock wall, one side providing a low escarpment Omath could curl against. The green hummed, ‘the rock still has some warmth,’ she explained happily. 

T’lara pulled a flask out of a bag strapped to Omath, and she noticed Balin had the blankets undone, and he’d made a warm nest of them next to Omath that Frisk had already cuddled into. 

Smiling T’lara unlidded her flask, and Balin noticed the lid became a cup into which she poured hot soup. Settling down beside Balin, she offered him the soup.

‘Not until you’ve has some, lass. Dwarves, we can endure greater hardship than humans, and while some soup would be nice, l can wait until you’ve had your fill.’

T’lara drank a cup full of soup, then filled for Balin, who took surprised at how hot the soup was. 

‘How do you do this,’ he sipped the hot liquid carefully.

‘It’s one of the things AIVAS showed our smiths. It keeps hot things hot, or cold things cold for many hours. Isn’t Thorin a Master Smith? Perhaps he could make your people more of these flasks for the quest?’ T’lara took the cup and poured into it the last of the soup, which she shared with Frisk. 

Before she took the final mouthful she checked again if Balin wanted it. ‘No, lass, you have it, l’ll be fine.’ The green rider packed away the empty flask and joined Balin in the blankets.

‘You’re a bit cold, lass, here, snuggle up,’ Balin encouraged. ‘It’s said Mahal put the heat of the forge in Dwarves when He made us.’

‘You are warm,’ T’lara smiled, settling against Balin. ‘What do you mean Mahal made dwarves?’

‘You met Mahal, the night you tried to leave Rivendell and go home,’ Balin reminded her.

‘Oh yes, he is like a deity?’

‘He is a deity lass, one of the Valar, the great powers that watch over this world. Who watches your world?’

‘Ah, dragon riders, l guess. No deities for my people! In fact, we think such things are superstitious nonsense.’

‘Really? What do you worship, then? Where do you go when you die?’

‘We worship nothing, the honour given to dragons isn’t at that level and shouldn’t be. Dragons and Riders go beyond between when we die.’

‘You go between, then beyond to where?’

‘I don’t know, no one’s ever come back to tell us,’ T’lara yawned. Warm and cosy she was almost asleep. 

Balin let her drift off, and lay thinking. He had always believed T’lara was very important to their Quest, but the information that dragon riders could be considered the watchers, the guardians of their world caught Balin unprepared. This made his suggestion that T’lara and Omath undertake special protection of Thorin and the Princes even more sensible. 

Musing on this kept Balin busy until the Sun rose and he reluctantly woke the little dragon rider. They had a journey to finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is canon that AIVAS taught the Smiths of Pern to make what we would know as a Thermas flask.  
> For the purposes of this story, it is the experience of drinking the water of Mirrormere that awakes Balin’s later illfated desire to take back Moria.  
> The dress and appearance of a fighting dragonrider. From illustrations and descriptions they appear to be quite similar to a WW1 pilot. In the case of a dragonrider, the jodhpur like trousers are leather, and the knee high boots lined with fur for warmth. The leather jacket, again fur lined, is made of Weyr hide, the skin of a native Pernese beast, as is the rider’s fur lined gloves. A leather helmet and vintage style goggles complete the outfit. Usually, a rider carries a set or two of spare helmet, goggles and a flying jacket in case of picking up an unexpected passenger. I assume these things are either rolled up and strapped behind the rider, or kept in a burlap or leather bag tied to the dragon’s harness. Omath was not carrying such things on the night she and T’lara went missing from Pern.


	14. Between to Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T’lara and Balin finish their scouting mission and Omath takes them between to Rivendell. Frisk steals a coin from Smaug!

Erebor

Stretching, T’lara smiled at Balin. ‘I feel better, and Omath does too. Did you sleep?’

‘No, l didn’t, l’d snoozed a bit earlier on Omath. Frisk and l watched while you two lassies slept.’

‘Oh Balin, that is so kind! And nicely done of you too, Frisk!’ Frisk received a pat, to Balin’s delight, he got a brief, surprisingly tight hug. It made him feel like a young lad again so Balin returned the hug with gentle enthusiasm. 

In no time, blankets were rolled up and strapped back on Omath. T’lara and Balin shared a bit of dried meat with Frisk and then mounted Omath who declared it a lovely morning for flying as she launched off the rocky outcrop they’d spent the night on. 

Frisk popped back to Rivendell and was back in no time, all full of himself for having reported to Oin, the only one of the Company actually awake at that hour. All well was his message to Oin, and the deaf dwarf was apparently pleased with the mindspeak of the fire lizard as then his poor hearing didn’t matter.

Picking up the high thermals again, Omath soared across the sky, using cloud banks to mostly conceal them from anyone watching below. 

The bright sunshine had warmed the air beautifully, and T’lara was all but leaning back into Balin as they flew. They’d turned North and now flew over forested lands that Balin called Mirkwood.

‘It’s where the wood elves live,’ he explained. 

‘Are they friendly like Elrond’s people?’

‘The wood sprites..are different. When Smaug first attacked Erebor, King Thranduil refused aid to the refugees. Women and children died as a result.’

‘That’s awful! The Queen’s Council would’ve had something to say and do about it on Pern. Queen dragons command all other colours and a force of dragons would’ve fallen on that fool, threatening to flame everything!’

Balin smiled against her shoulder, ‘l imagine this Queen’s Council was quite terrifying if you are anything to judge them by!’

T’lara laughed. ‘The Queen riders were worse! The Weyrwomen were extremely fierce in their defence of helpless and abused people!’

‘Maybe we need something like that when Erebor is retaken. A group, or council maybe led by Princess Dis, to take care of orphans, widows and other needy people.’

‘I would be happy to help when the times comes,’ offered T’lara.

‘That’s right kind of you, lass.’

She shook her head, strands of silver hair flying about, ‘all dragonriders are supposed to protect the weak and needy.’

For a time, there was silence as they flew on over Mirkwood, then T’lara felt Balin’s hands tighten on her waist briefly before he lifted his right hand to point out a large, lonely mountain peak. 

‘There it is, Erebor!’

T’lara looked through Omath’s multi faceted eyes at the Mountain, each observing to the other that Erebor would’ve made a nice Weyr on Pern, from what they could see of it.

Closer yet, and over an old ruined town Balin said was called Dale. ‘I well remember the markets of Dale, the flags flying overhead, with people and exotic goods from far away, merchants haggling prices and hiring Dwarves as guards. Dwalin was just a lad then, and an adventerous one, which was lucky the day the dragon came.’

‘Why is that?’ T’lara’s question was soft. 

‘Because Thorin and me were outside looking for the little scamp who’d run away from his minder. All three of us saw the dragon’s attack on Erebor and Dale, and witnessed, helpless to aid anyone, the terrible slaughter of Men and Dwarves. Thorin and l had nightmares for years, but by Mahal’s mercy Dwalin remembers very little, though this is why he became a warrior, to always be able to help and protect those in need.’

‘Like the Queen’s Council in a way.’

‘Yes, much like that, for you lassies are warriors too.’

Silence fell again until Balin spoke, ‘there is Long Lake, and Laketown.’ 

They flew above a somewhat battered looking town of wooden houses built on stilts in the very waters of the lake. T’lara had heard of such things in the far north of Pern, above and around the High Reaches, where the lakes froze solid for a good part of the year. She had even heard of people living so far north in the frozen wastelands that Thread couldn’t bother them. Personally, T’lara thought that myth, for what could people eat the far north?

The Lonely Mountain was close now, and again, Frisk returned from an advance scouting mission, but this time his eyes whirled red, and he was chittering madly. 

‘The dragon is alive!’ T’lara repeated to Balin.

‘Mahal! No!’

‘Frisk said he touched a living mind there. Let’s get close for Omath to see what she can find, as dragons have a stronger mind that fire lizards.’

Onwards they flew, Erebor becoming larger as they flew nearer, over what Balin called the Desolation of Smaug. He explained nothing grew where the dragon’s fire had sorched the land, and might never again for many centuries. 

‘Was it once a volcano?’ T’lara questioned. 

‘Aye, lass, that it was!’ replied a surprised Balin. 

‘Omath says it would make a nice Weyr, you see all the Northern Continent Weyrs are old volcanoes. We cut the dragon’s weyrs, the riders living quarters and the lower caverns from the rock, and use the thermal energy to heat water and so on.’

‘You live in mountains?’ 

‘Oh yes, everyone lives in mountains, or in stone buildings, only those kind of dwellings are Thread safe.’

Balin smiled, delighted. This lady was used to living under stone, and in mountains. Surely this was not chance? That T’lara might be happy to live in Erebor had not really occurred to him. Perhaps special accommodations might need to be carved for Omath, but no one would grudge her that after helping reclaim Erebor.

Now they were soaring above Erebor, and steam or smoke could just be seen rising from what had to be old air shafts. T’lara shivered, how big was this Smaug?

Frisk had disappeared and reappeared suddenly, and to Balin’s surprise he perched on the dwarf’s shoulder. The blue fire lizard called out in his sweet voice, and Omath side slipped and then dove towards the mountain side, before pulling up steeply to hover a moment before landing carefully . 

Omath gripped a couple of outcroppings of rock with her talons, ‘it is too hot for my feet to touch right down,’ she said, as her green, great wings vaned the sky, keeping her balance as she delicately felt for Smaug’s mind.

He was definitely alive, as Frisk smugly told the green dragon, alive but asleep, and T’lara   
shivered as she passed this on to Balin.

‘We should get out of here before he wakes,’ Balin suggested. 

‘Or we’re seen,’ T’lara said, as she gave Omath the verbal signal for take off. 

Frisk followed closely, as Omath winged up into light cloud, high enough for a proper transfer between. 

‘Between is cold and dark, Balin, but only lasts to a count of eight. You won’t feel yourself sitting on Omath, nor me sitting in front of you. If you would think hard of Rivendell at this time of day, with the mid morning sun lighting the gardens, and the fountains sparkling it will be helpful,’ T’lara instructed.

Then she gave Omath the verbal instruction to go between, and as they did, Balin felt T’lara’s hands squeeze his lightly. Black indeed, and cold beyond imagining he thought as he tried to concentrate on Rivendell shining in the bright sunshine. 

Just on the count of eight, as T’lara had said, they suddenly burst from between, high above Rivendell, the sun warming them nicely after the cold of between. 

Balin had been more well, frightened, then he expected to be by between, not that he would ever admit it. Instead, he chose to focus on what he’d realised was the touch of Omath’s mind, and behind that, a glimpse of T’lara’s thoughts, busy with, and Balin gasped as he realised he understood she was fretting over how big Smaug was! To be able to hear her worries behind Omath’s mind was surely not normal! Balin’s own mind was whirling as Omath landed, and he slid down her side followed by T’lara. 

Frisk pulled at Balin’s collar with his front feet, pulling the slightly confused dwarf towards T’lara, nipping at his ears until Balin offered the small woman his arm and escort. Pleased with himself, Frisk shot off like an arrow through the air, straight to his little friend Estel, who greeted the fire lizard happily, and equally happily agreed to get some food for him.

Bilbo the fussy Hobbit popped up and like the previous afternoon, he insisted Balin and T’lara have something to eat, with him, as he was having second breakfast. 

Just as Balin and T’lara finished their breakfast (and Bilbo his second) Thorin appeared with Gandalf and Dwalin.

‘Well, what did you find?’ The wizard asked as he cleared a plate in front of him of hot buttered toast. For someone who never seemed to shut up about the appetite of Hobbits, Gandalf certainly was happy enough to imitate them in his ability to eat. 

Balin let T’lara report, impressed by her concise manner. It occurred to him she’d mentioned patrolling across Pern and was probably used to reporting to this Weyrleader she spoke of. 

‘Our flight was unremarkable on a fine evening with good flying conditions, light winds in a clear sky. Omath soon picked up the thermals and we flew on, over the Misty Mountains until around 2am, when we landed at Mirrormere for a drink and to refill our water bags. Frisk and Omath reported Goblins far to the north, and no other danger on land, or in the water or sky.

We flew on for another hour, then rested until dawn on a safe rocky outcrop. Then over Mirkwood, to the Long Lake across the flatlands destroyed by Smaug to Erebor, which Omath notes would make a good Weyr.

Smoke and steam issued from the mountain as we landed, with Omath and Frisk ranging their minds out to brush Smaug’s. He is alive, but sleeps. 

Frisk brought you this’ and the fire lizard dropped the coin he carried in his mouth beside Thorin’s hand, and the raven haired dwarf picked it up carefully and examined it as T’lara finished her report. 

‘To prove he’d been in the mountain. From Erebor we came between back here.’

‘You could’ve been seen! Flying in daylight!’growled Dwalin. 

‘Nay, brother, for Omath used the clouds that cover the Misty Mountains and Erebor, and indeed stretch between the two as cover,’ replied Balin.

Thorin put down the coin, pushing it towards Dwalin. ‘King Thror’s mark, it’s undoubtedly from Erebor.’

Gandalf however, was smoking up a storm, smoke rings by the dozen floating about his head, clearly lost in his own thoughts as Fili, sitting nearby watching his brother fletching arrows asked, ‘you refilled your water bags, now it seems to me that’s a lot of water to drink.’

Balin’s dark eyes shone as he turned to Fili, ‘we refilled the water bags from Mirrormere lad, to bring some of the sacred water for the whole Company to drink!’

‘I’ll get some tankards,’ said Fili. ‘Come on, brother, leave your arrows for later.’

Kili went with Fili easily enough, and a selection of tankards was soon filled. Bilbo, protesting he preferred it if they made tea from the water! He went silent when Ori gently informed him that would be blasphemy. 

Once everyone, including Gandalf had a tankard of the clear lake water, Thorin asked Balin for a toast and he didn’t hesitate.

‘To T’lara and Omath, two brave and beautiful lasses, without who we would not have the sacred water to drink!’

The dwarves toasted their new friends, and Gandalf’s eyes twinkled as he joined in draining his tankard to the last. 

Fussy Dori put down his tankard, ‘Lady T’lara, you don’t know what a boon this is, what good fortune having the blessed water of Mirrormere to drink is.’

‘It is good water, but it’s water.’

‘Not T’lara,’ Gandalf answered. ‘To dwarves it truly is special. I have heard this water even has miraculous healing powers.’

‘That’s so.’ For once deaf Oin heard clearly. He looked over towards his brother, Gloin, who was questioning Balin. 

‘Aye, Aye, the stars were like a crown, which makes me think. Thorin, you will have the Arkenstone and Erebor.’

‘Though Dwalin and l are of Durin’s line we are further away from the direct line. Perhaps, one of us here will reclaim Moria?’

‘The Quest For Erebor and Smaug is enough for this Company, Balin,’ Gandalf interjected and Balin turned to his brother who nodded. 

‘Me and Sara will just be glad of peace and plenty to finish raising our lads. They will want Uncle Balin by their sides too.’

‘Very well, then!’ Balin turned to T’lara, who was discussing the healing powers of the Mirrormere water with Oin. He sat, watching the little dragon rider, impressed as always by her knowledge of many different things. He supposed that she had needed healing knowledge because of Thread, but it is was clear from Oin’s expression that her knowledge was not superficial. Reflecting this could be very useful he turned to Dwalin who was staring at him in an unnerving fashion. ‘About time someone took the dragon lass under their family’s protection.’

Balin nodded ‘l thought we could give her our family beads, to take her under the protection of the House of Fundin. If you agree, of course.’

‘Good idea, brother. You always have the best ideas. I agree.’

‘Tonight then?’

‘Aye, after dinner though.’

‘Trust you to think of food first!’ Balin laughed. 

T’lara had gone to attend to Omath, only to find Nori, Ori, Fili and Kili oiling her, while Estel and Bilbo oiled Frisk. 

Feeling pleased at the help, but at a loose end she responded to Bofur’s call, ‘sit with us, lass!’

Bifur and Bombur moved up so she could fit on the bench the three sat on. ‘That was right nice of you and Balin to bring back the water from Mirrormere,’ Bofur remarked. ‘Our ancestors never lived in Moria, or drank from Mirrormere, but both are important to all Dwarves.’

‘Really! Your ancestors are different?’

‘Bifur says didn’t you know that? Everyone else here is Longbeard Clan, tallest of the seven families. They say they need the height for their beards, we say thay are just show offs!

T’lara chuckled, ‘so what is your Clan?’

‘We’re Broadbeams, lass. A fellow Bombur’s size is not that unusual amongst us, and we tend to be shorter.’

‘Interesting! To be able to tell someone’s family by just looking!’

‘It’s the way with dwarves. Ah yes, Bifur asks if you’ll sing some more songs from your world!’

‘I can! There is one that needs lots of clapping and foot stamping, in fact it really needs a few people to help, we don’t need instruments.’ T’lara thought for a moment, then smiled. 

‘Let’s practice and perform the song tonight in the Hall of Fire,’ T’lara suggested, her eyes sparkling mischievously. 

And so they all agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so that’s the scouting mission done. It is my HC for this fic, that seeing Mirrormere and drinking the water awoke his later desire to take back Moria and become it’s Lord, and so bring about his own demise.


	15. By Fire, Fog and Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omath match makes, T’lara swears an Oath, and an expert on Oaths and their effects gets a ride on Omath.

Lunch was held out on the Dwarves verandah. Nori had pilfered the elves pantries with help from Bofur, Fili and Kili, to the great amusement of the Elven kitchen staff and cooks who were a wake up to the pilfering.

T’lara giggled to herself, as the dwarves were nowhere near as subtle as they thought they were. It was obvious that the food the dwarves were cooking, eating, and throwing had come from somewhere other than fresh air, yet the dwarves didn’t care a bit they’d probably been caught out as they happily tossed freshly cooked sausages at each other. 

A sideways glance was all that was needed for T’lara to know all the of the dwarves current activities. Balin and Thorin were in deep conversation with Gandalf. Dori, Nori and Ori quietly conversing too, something about leaving Ori behind in Rivendell. 

Dwalin, Gloin and Bifur were sharpening weapons. Oin was trying to tell Bofur not to put too much garlic in the stew. Like many healers, his herbal knowledge also extended to cooking. Bilbo and Bombur were fussily preparing other food..Kili and Fili were off in the gardens somewhere with Frisk and Estel. 

T’lara smiled to herself. It was many years since she had felt so comfortable and safe. To her surprise, soon Balin approached her, smiling widely. He reached for her hands, and T’lara reached back, offering her hands. To her surprise, Balin walked right up to her, taking both her hands in his left, his right arm folding about her, as she sat. He gave her a gentle head knock, and pulled her against his side, in a soft, friendly embrace. 

Quietly, she sat with Balin, watching Omath play in the water like she hadn’t since they’d been Weyrlings. The sight pleased T’lara as she laughed at the green dragon’s frolicking with Estel, Frisk, Fili and Kili who had reappeared quite suddenly. Doubtless they had all been up to some mischief. 

‘Are you happy here?’ asked Balin, and T’lara knew he didn’t mean far from home, her Weyr and friends. He meant with the new friends she’d made, especially the dwarves. 

‘Yes, as much as l can be under the circumstances. I do miss my family, my son and grandchildren. To her dismay, she felt tears prick her eyes, and went to wipe them on her shirt sleeve. 

A handkerchief appeared in front of her face, and T’lara took it from Balin’s large hand, drying her eyes. She handed him back the cloth, only for the dwarf to take one hand gently, and he pocketed the handkerchief before taking her other hand. 

‘We all know what it is to miss home, to grieve for friends and family we may never see again. Don’t fear those thoughts lass, all of us understand and we will look after you.’

T’lara nodded, her voice failing her as she leaned into Balin, accepting his comfort. Omath said nothing, simply pleased her beloved rider was taking comfort from another person.

After a while she sat back up. ‘Thanks Balin, l needed that.’ Little Frisk popped up then, humming and landing on Balin’s shoulder. ‘That’s the second time you’ve done that, Frisk!’ The blue fire lizard was also rubbing his head against Balin, who patted him in return. 

‘This isn’t usual, for him to spend time with other people?’

‘No, Balin, except of course with young people like Estel, Fili, Kili and Ori. Most blue dragons and fire lizards like young people, and Frisk has become very close to Estel, like he was with my son, perhaps because Estel is a lot like R’cor was as a lad. It is very unusual for Frisk to take to an adult like he has to you.’

T’lara’s eyes unfocused. ‘Omath says Frisk really likes you, Balin, as she does. Omath asks if you really like both of them.’

Balin smiled at Omath’s question, for in many ways the big green was childlike, as in right now with her apparent fear that Balin didn’t like her or Frisk. 

Still patting Frisk, Balin looked at Omath, who had squeezed herself through some of the garden beds to now be so close Balin could see her eyes whirling with little streaks of yellow which he remembered T’lara had said meant worry. 

‘Well, l’ve never met a dragon before, or a fire lizard but you seem a lovely lass, Omath, brave and strong, friendly, and kind too, and Frisk is a charming fellow. Yes, Omath, l like you and Frisk very much.’ 

The green’s eyes slowed and went blue, and blue Frisk turned his eyes green. Balin stared for a moment, then chuckled. ‘The pair of you! Is that intentional?’

‘Yes, it is,’ smiled T’lara. ‘They practiced that for years to get it just right.’

Balin burst out laughing, and for several minutes all he could do was laugh. Omath started to change her eye colour to the pale yellow of concern, worried as to why Balin didn’t seem to be able to stop laughing. Finally gaining control of himself to an extent, Balin spluttered, ‘just like Fili and Kili with their their coordinated bows!’

Suddenly Omath’s eyes went green, and T’lara burst out, ‘that’s a very presumptive question; you can ask that for yourself, Omath!’

So Omath, being quite a lot more chatty to people other than her rider than was usual, did ask. ‘So, do you like my rider very much? Are you going to be her weyrmate?’

‘I don’t believe you actually asked that!’a blushing T’lara accused Omath. The dragon hung her head, her eyes showing a little pale yellow again. Her voice in T’lara’s and Balin’s mind was apologetic, ‘it’s just that you like my rider very much,’ the dragon explained to Balin, ‘and she likes you.’

Balin got up carefully to not unbalance little Frisk and went up to Omath. He extended his hand, and Omath licked it. ‘It’s alright Omath. I’m not angry, now tell me about weyrmates.’

The green responded enthusiastically. ‘It is when two humans living in the Weyr like each other so much they decide to live together. Sometimes, they are Dragonriders , and sometimes support people like healers or cooks, or one of each.’

‘So..are there ceremonies or rituals connected with this?’

‘No,’ said Omath, ‘people just take up double living quarters. Like my rider’s son, the rider of brown Zulth, he and his weyrmate just moved into double quarters, and now they have two children.’

Omath suddenly ducked her head for her rider’s hug. Instinctively, Balin reached out to pat the green too. 

‘Is that what you want, Omath? For your rider to have a Weyrmate?’Balin asked in surprise. 

‘Yes,’ the green responded, and used her rider’s name for once. ‘T’lara has never one of her own kind to love her, to hold her close at night. Long have l wanted this for my dearest rider!’

‘I am a dwarf, dear dragon, not a human,’ suddenly Balin was aware that Omath didn’t understand the difference. 

‘You are a person, not a dragon or other beast. So, you could be my rider’s weyrmate, l know you like her very much.’

Balin patted the dragon’s muzzle, looking over towards T’lara, who was now laughing with Estel, Frisk, and Gilraen. 

‘Your Rider is a beautiful lady, and l do like her very much,’ and Balin decided a dragon could beam with happiness. 

‘So you could be her Weyrmate!’

‘Don’t you think T’lara has some say in that?’

‘Oh. Yes, of course,’ said a now embarrassed dragon. 

T’lara meanwhile had clued in on the conversation and was giggling like a teenage girl. ‘Omath is always matchmaking! This isn’t the first time she’s tried to set me up with a Weyrmate!’and she got to her feet, ‘Come on, Balin, it’s time to train with Estel. We’re leaving just after midsummer, so l’ve only got a couple of days to finish training him in some of those unarmed combat forms!’

Running lightly, she disappeared among the flower beds and Balin trotted behind her, pleased that T’lara seemed amused by her dragon’s matchmaking. 

However, Balin’s mind was now trotting as fast as his feet, thinking about the dragon lass, now laughing with Estel, her head thrown back, wholeheartedly enjoying whatever it was Estel had said that was funny. It was strange how she’d captured his interest so quickly, he mused. Dwalin had speculated that his brother was falling in love with T’lara, and Balin had denied it, only for Dwalin to fall about laughing at the denial. 

He joined the small group of people who had gathered around T’lara and Estel. Dwalin was demonstrating an axe move, Fili was polishing a sword, and Kili explaining to Estel how to make sure an arrow’s length was correct for him, and teaching how to adjust this as he would grow older, stronger, and his arms get longer.

The rest of the day was filled with various physical exercises, running, armed and unarmed combat, plus stretching exercises T’lara insisted on. 

Then, of course, Omath needed exercise. T’lara suggested, and Thorin agreed, that as tomorrow night was Mid Summer’s eve and the dwarves would leave in the cool of the evening at Elrond’s suggestion, that any Company member who hadn’t flown on Omath would go for a ride, and go between too. Dwalin fussed about it, as, predictably did Dori too, but everyone else seemed to have fun with Omath and Frisk until it was time for an al fresco dinner. 

Later that evening, as the setting Sun flamed the sky yellow and orange…

T’lara took her belt knife, the green diamonds set in the hilt glittering as she cut the palm of her left hand for a blood oath to Thorin. 

‘Thorin Oakenshield, myself, Omath and Frisk have already signed contracts to your Company. Straight and serious she stood before Thorin, ‘as protector of the Line of Durin, through Fire, Fog and Fall, l swear on Omath’s shell l will never betray or fail the Quest for Erebor, not even if Fire burns all the world, through Fog so thick only a dragon’s eyes can pierce it, nor though Thread bares the land, Omath, Frisk and l will be there, to protect you and your Heirs. Through Fire, Fog and Fall!’

As Oin bandaged T’lara’s hand she regarded the grim dwarf king equally grimly. ‘I take it that is a sacred oath for Dragonriders,’ Thorin questioned.

‘It is, and it is a variation of the one you swear to your Weyrleader as full Rider when you become part of a fighting Wing.’

‘And it sounds somewhat nicer than vowing to pursue some gems to the end of time and beyond the bounds of this world,’ drawled Glorfindel, earning himself a discrete kick on the shin from Elrond. Poor Glorfindel spoiled that by letting out a yelp but stopped short of rubbing his leg. 

The dark elf, Maglor, had fixed Glorfindel with a threatening death glare. Even little Frisk held his breath until Maglor gave a sharp, harsh, bark of laughter totally out of place with his usual melodic voice. ‘The former Lord of the House of the Golden Flower is, the Golden Git, just this once right.’ Maglor turned his bottomless grey gaze on T’lara.

‘Through Fire, Fog and Fall,’ he mused. ‘One day there is a song there, but for now..l take it this oath is a reference to Thread Fall in the dangers of fog, and the fire is dragon’s fire? It is a way of saying no matter the danger you will honour your Vow?

Before T’lara could reply, Glorfindel let out a chuckle of his own, ‘Golden Git! It is at least reasonably original. You know Feanorian, l almost regret not having met your father, l wonder what he would’ve made of T’lara and her dragon?’

‘Probably would’ve kidnapped them and used Omath to flame Morgoth,’ Maglor said as he accepted a glass of wine from Glorfindel. 

‘Now, there’s definitely a song there, ‘what shall we do with a kidnapped dragon? What shall we do with a kidnapped dragon? What shall we do with a kidnapped dragon? Go and flame Morgoth!’

Glorfindel laughed gloriously, and T’lara giggled a bit. Maglor looked disgusted, ‘let me write the songs,’ he scolded. ‘You stick to drinking!’

Everyone burst into merry laughter, and T’lara found herself with a guitar in hand again,

‘Gather, Gather, it’s a Gather Day,  
No work for us and Thread’s away!’ She sang, light and cheerful. 

As the words to the ancient Gather tune were repeated often, and the tune too, easily remembered, all of Elrond’s folk and the dwarves were soon singing along with one Hobbit and a mortal boy. 

It was Bilbo who asked, ‘what’s a Gather?’

And Estel who supported his question with, ‘it sounds fun!’

‘A Gather is when people come together to trade goods, to sing, dance and eat. Dragonriders help to bring people in, drovers bring livestock, cooks make bubbly pies and other delicious treats. Harpers sing their new songs, and everyone, even the dragons relax and have a good time.’

‘What’s a bubbly pie?’ asked Bombur. 

‘It’s yummy,’ laughed T’lara. ‘A bubbly pie is hot hot hot from the oven, a sweet fruit confection that is just amazing!’

‘If the elves lend their ovens, maybe we could make such pies,’ remarked Bilbo. 

‘Yes! Let’s ask!’and T’lara disappeared with Bilbo to ask about making bubbly pies. 

A couple of hours later.. Bilbo and T’lara were recruiting helpers to hand out the sweet fruity pies. 

Bombur helped of course, this was food, and he thought the pies were wonderful if the expression on his face was anything to go by. 

Everyone in the company tried some. T’lara stared in horror that the dwarves ate the pies still bubbling, so hot she would’ve seriously scalded her mouth!

Noticing the horrified look on T’lara’s face, Oin, of all people chuckled. He had always seemed distant, and stern, focused on the health of the dwarves, and his red haired brother was so grumpy that it surprised T’lara terribly that Oin would laugh. 

‘The look on your face, lass,’ the healer chuckled again. ‘Dwarves tolerate heat, fire, hot food and such a lot better than most people.’ 

Thinking, T’lara remembered she’d seen different dwarves reach into the fire and adjust firewood or handle sizzling hot pans she hadn’t paid that much attention, ‘Are you fireproof or something?’

‘No lass, just able to tolerate high temperatures.’ Oin gave her a curious look.

‘Don’t worry, we won’t burn ourselves.’

T’lara looked disbelieving at that, but watching the dwarves happily continue to eat the boiling food she eventually had to believe Oin. 

It was Maglor who drew her aside. ‘That performance was impressive,’ he drawled.

‘It was no performance.’

Startled, the elf stared at the small woman. ‘You were serious? Oh, how l wish my father could’ve met you!’ He laughed grimly, yet melodically.

‘So, it was no joke that your father would kidnap us to use for his own purposes?’

‘No, l was quite serious. If it’s any consolation, l and some of my brothers would have tried to stop him.’

‘Where is your father?’

‘Dead.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ T’lara was puzzled, and Maglor picked up on it. 

‘You’re wondering how a supposedly immortal elf is dead? Well, we don’t get sick, and we don’t die of age. We can be killed in war, die of poisoning or accidents, though. Before you ask, my father was killed in battle.’

A few seconds silence followed. Maglor spoke softly after T’lara started to get uncomfortable with the silence, and the strange way the elf looked at her, out of his unearthly gray eyes as if trying to read her very soul, ‘when do l get a ride on your winged friend?’

‘Right now if you like!’

Balin watched slightly disturbed as T’lara harnessed Omath with Maglor’s assistance. He didn’t like her laughing with elf Lord, and scowled unhappily til Omath’s mind touched his gently. 

‘My rider but humours the elf, and is using his wish to ride me as an excuse to get to know his motives and for more exercise for me. Don’t worry, l will return my rider to you soon.’

Surprised, Balin questioned, ‘return T’lara to me?’ 

‘Yes, of course. She will not so say so, but she needs your time and attention. Once l have flown with this elf, l will take you and T’lara on an evening flight. 

Even more surprised, Balin asked Omath, ‘an evening flight? Why?’

‘Because my rider likes to take flight with you at night, because she likes how you hold her when you sit behind her on me.’

Balin shifted, a little embarrassed. ‘Oh!’ was all that would come out. 

Maglor enjoyed his ride on Omath very much. ‘Father would definitely have kidnapped you and Omath, not just for the clear tactical advantage of looking about the place from the air, but also for the sheer fun of riding Omath. Thank you both for an incredible experience,’ he bowed and disappeared, humming lightly under his breath. 

Balin approached, and took T’lara’s hand, kissing it. ‘Dinner time, my lady,’ he smiled. 

Dinner was happy. Smiling Dwarves were now, for some reason on their best behaviour. Perhaps it was because the elves had offered them more sausages to cook? Certainly while the Dwarves were eating heartily and drinking rather a lot, plus telling jokes and pulling pranks on each other, they were not throwing food or walking on the tables. 

T’lara enjoyed the meal, especially Frisk showing how he could eat sausages at incredible speed. As expected, the dwarves bet on how long it would take Frisk to eat ten sausages. T’lara then put her foot down on him having more, because she didn’t want the little blue being sick from overeating. 

Twilight fell, and T’lara was making sure the last of the Company were on schedule for a familiarisation ride on Omath. Bombur was trying to get out of it by saying he was too corpulent. T’lara was having none of that and told him to be ready to go at 9 o’clock. ‘Estel will come with us too. He so much enjoys going flying!’

Bombur nodded, venturing softly, ‘he is a nice young lad.’

Pleased that the very quiet dwarf was speaking, T’lara smiled, ‘l believe you have quite a large family?’

Bombur nodded, smiling back. ‘Five lads and two lasses,’ he said proudly. A gentle conversation developed with Bombur telling some tales of his children, and their antics, most of which Bofur was responsible for. With a bit of help at times from Bifur, or so the axe bearing dwarf said. 

T’lara countered with the time her son, Ricor and some of his friends were punished for a prank played on The Masterharper on one of his visits to Benden Weyr. The boys were punished by having to wash, and oil, the three biggest dragons on Pern, Ramoth, Mnenmeth, and Canth. Somehow, they managed to use an oil that turned all three dragons a magnificent shade of lilac! Right before the big Fort Turn’s End Gather too!’ T’lara laughed at the reactions from the dwarves as Omath flashed a brief memory of the lilac dragons around. 

‘Father and F’lar made the boys clean up the livestock pens and shovel Firestone ash for months. I still don’t know how they turned the dragons lilac!,’ and all her listeners had a good laugh with her.

‘Are you going to sing tonight, T’lara?’ Estel, who had been taking all his meals with the Dwarves asked. 

‘Nope, we all are! I’m going to teach everyone a special song that involves a lot of clapping, and the stamping of boots.’ 

‘What song’s this, lass,’ called out Bofur, always keen for a new tune or song. 

‘It’s called the Alarm Chorus, and Estel,’ T’lara grinned at the startled boy, ‘you get to lead it!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly longer chapter, next chapter T’lara, Estel and the Dwarves rock the Hall of Fire before we leave Rivendell behind.


	16. By Fire, Fog and Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omath match makes, T’lara swears an Oath, and an expert on Oaths and their effects gets a ride on Omath.

Lunch was held out on the Dwarves verandah. Nori had pilfered the elves pantries with help from Bofur, Fili and Kili, to the great amusement of the Elven kitchen staff and cooks who were a wake up to the pilfering.

T’lara giggled to herself, as the dwarves were nowhere near as subtle as they thought they were. It was obvious that the food the dwarves were cooking, eating, and throwing had come from somewhere other than fresh air, yet the dwarves didn’t care a bit they’d probably been caught out as they happily tossed freshly cooked sausages at each other. 

A sideways glance was all that was needed for T’lara to know all the of the dwarves current activities. Balin and Thorin were in deep conversation with Gandalf. Dori, Nori and Ori quietly conversing too, something about leaving Ori behind in Rivendell. 

Dwalin, Gloin and Bifur were sharpening weapons. Oin was trying to tell Bofur not to put too much garlic in the stew. Like many healers, his herbal knowledge also extended to cooking. Bilbo and Bombur were fussily preparing other food..Kili and Fili were off in the gardens somewhere with Frisk and Estel. 

T’lara smiled to herself. It was many years since she had felt so comfortable and safe. To her surprise, soon Balin approached her, smiling widely. He reached for her hands, and T’lara reached back, offering her hands. To her surprise, Balin walked right up to her, taking both her hands in his left, his right arm folding about her, as she sat. He gave her a gentle head knock, and pulled her against his side, in a soft, friendly embrace. 

Quietly, she sat with Balin, watching Omath play in the water like she hadn’t since they’d been Weyrlings. The sight pleased T’lara as she laughed at the green dragon’s frolicking with Estel, Frisk, Fili and Kili who had reappeared quite suddenly. Doubtless they had all been up to some mischief. 

‘Are you happy here?’ asked Balin, and T’lara knew he didn’t mean far from home, her Weyr and friends. He meant with the new friends she’d made, especially the dwarves. 

‘Yes, as much as l can be under the circumstances. I do miss my family, my son and grandchildren. To her dismay, she felt tears prick her eyes, and went to wipe them on her shirt sleeve. 

A handkerchief appeared in front of her face, and T’lara took it from Balin’s large hand, drying her eyes. She handed him back the cloth, only for the dwarf to take one hand gently, and he pocketed the handkerchief before taking her other hand. 

‘We all know what it is to miss home, to grieve for friends and family we may never see again. Don’t fear those thoughts lass, all of us understand and we will look after you.’

T’lara nodded, her voice failing her as she leaned into Balin, accepting his comfort. Omath said nothing, simply pleased her beloved rider was taking comfort from another person.

After a while she sat back up. ‘Thanks Balin, l needed that.’ Little Frisk popped up then, humming and landing on Balin’s shoulder. ‘That’s the second time you’ve done that, Frisk!’ The blue fire lizard was also rubbing his head against Balin, who patted him in return. 

‘This isn’t usual, for him to spend time with other people?’

‘No, Balin, except of course with young people like Estel, Fili, Kili and Ori. Most blue dragons and fire lizards like young people, and Frisk has become very close to Estel, like he was with my son, perhaps because Estel is a lot like R’cor was as a lad. It is very unusual for Frisk to take to an adult like he has to you.’

T’lara’s eyes unfocused. ‘Omath says Frisk really likes you, Balin, as she does. Omath asks if you really like both of them.’

Balin smiled at Omath’s question, for in many ways the big green was childlike, as in right now with her apparent fear that Balin didn’t like her or Frisk. 

Still patting Frisk, Balin looked at Omath, who had squeezed herself through some of the garden beds to now be so close Balin could see her eyes whirling with little streaks of yellow which he remembered T’lara had said meant worry. 

‘Well, l’ve never met a dragon before, or a fire lizard but you seem a lovely lass, Omath, brave and strong, friendly, and kind too, and Frisk is a charming fellow. Yes, Omath, l like you and Frisk very much.’ 

The green’s eyes slowed and went blue, and blue Frisk turned his eyes green. Balin stared for a moment, then chuckled. ‘The pair of you! Is that intentional?’

‘Yes, it is,’ smiled T’lara. ‘They practiced that for years to get it just right.’

Balin burst out laughing, and for several minutes all he could do was laugh. Omath started to change her eye colour to the pale yellow of concern, worried as to why Balin didn’t seem to be able to stop laughing. Finally gaining control of himself to an extent, Balin spluttered, ‘just like Fili and Kili with their their coordinated bows!’

Suddenly Omath’s eyes went green, and T’lara burst out, ‘that’s a very presumptive question; you can ask that for yourself, Omath!’

So Omath, being quite a lot more chatty to people other than her rider than was usual, did ask. ‘So, do you like my rider very much? Are you going to be her weyrmate?’

‘I don’t believe you actually asked that!’a blushing T’lara accused Omath. The dragon hung her head, her eyes showing a little pale yellow again. Her voice in T’lara’s and Balin’s mind was apologetic, ‘it’s just that you like my rider very much,’ the dragon explained to Balin, ‘and she likes you.’

Balin got up carefully to not unbalance little Frisk and went up to Omath. He extended his hand, and Omath licked it. ‘It’s alright Omath. I’m not angry, now tell me about weyrmates.’

The green responded enthusiastically. ‘It is when two humans living in the Weyr like each other so much they decide to live together. Sometimes, they are Dragonriders , and sometimes support people like healers or cooks, or one of each.’

‘So..are there ceremonies or rituals connected with this?’

‘No,’ said Omath, ‘people just take up double living quarters. Like my rider’s son, the rider of brown Zulth, he and his weyrmate just moved into double quarters, and now they have two children.’

Omath suddenly ducked her head for her rider’s hug. Instinctively, Balin reached out to pat the green too. 

‘Is that what you want, Omath? For your rider to have a Weyrmate?’Balin asked in surprise. 

‘Yes,’ the green responded, and used her rider’s name for once. ‘T’lara has never one of her own kind to love her, to hold her close at night. Long have l wanted this for my dearest rider!’

‘I am a dwarf, dear dragon, not a human,’ suddenly Balin was aware that Omath didn’t understand the difference. 

‘You are a person, not a dragon or other beast. So, you could be my rider’s weyrmate, l know you like her very much.’

Balin patted the dragon’s muzzle, looking over towards T’lara, who was now laughing with Estel, Frisk, and Gilraen. 

‘Your Rider is a beautiful lady, and l do like her very much,’ and Balin decided a dragon could beam with happiness. 

‘So you could be her Weyrmate!’

‘Don’t you think T’lara has some say in that?’

‘Oh. Yes, of course,’ said a now embarrassed dragon. 

T’lara meanwhile had clued in on the conversation and was giggling like a teenage girl. ‘Omath is always matchmaking! This isn’t the first time she’s tried to set me up with a Weyrmate!’and she got to her feet, ‘Come on, Balin, it’s time to train with Estel. We’re leaving just after midsummer, so l’ve only got a couple of days to finish training him in some of those unarmed combat forms!’

Running lightly, she disappeared among the flower beds and Balin trotted behind her, pleased that T’lara seemed amused by her dragon’s matchmaking. 

However, Balin’s mind was now trotting as fast as his feet, thinking about the dragon lass, now laughing with Estel, her head thrown back, wholeheartedly enjoying whatever it was Estel had said that was funny. It was strange how she’d captured his interest so quickly, he mused. Dwalin had speculated that his brother was falling in love with T’lara, and Balin had denied it, only for Dwalin to fall about laughing at the denial. 

He joined the small group of people who had gathered around T’lara and Estel. Dwalin was demonstrating an axe move, Fili was polishing a sword, and Kili explaining to Estel how to make sure an arrow’s length was correct for him, and teaching how to adjust this as he would grow older, stronger, and his arms get longer.

The rest of the day was filled with various physical exercises, running, armed and unarmed combat, plus stretching exercises T’lara insisted on. 

Then, of course, Omath needed exercise. T’lara suggested, and Thorin agreed, that as tomorrow night was Mid Summer’s eve and the dwarves would leave in the cool of the evening at Elrond’s suggestion, that any Company member who hadn’t flown on Omath would go for a ride, and go between too. Dwalin fussed about it, as, predictably did Dori too, but everyone else seemed to have fun with Omath and Frisk until it was time for an al fresco dinner. 

Later that evening, as the setting Sun flamed the sky yellow and orange…

T’lara took her belt knife, the green diamonds set in the hilt glittering as she cut the palm of her left hand for a blood oath to Thorin. 

‘Thorin Oakenshield, myself, Omath and Frisk have already signed contracts to your Company. Straight and serious she stood before Thorin, ‘as protector of the Line of Durin, through Fire, Fog and Fall, l swear on Omath’s shell l will never betray or fail the Quest for Erebor, not even if Fire burns all the world, through Fog so thick only a dragon’s eyes can pierce it, nor though Thread bares the land, Omath, Frisk and l will be there, to protect you and your Heirs. Through Fire, Fog and Fall!’

As Oin bandaged T’lara’s hand she regarded the grim dwarf king equally grimly. ‘I take it that is a sacred oath for Dragonriders,’ Thorin questioned.

‘It is, and it is a variation of the one you swear to your Weyrleader as full Rider when you become part of a fighting Wing.’

‘And it sounds somewhat nicer than vowing to pursue some gems to the end of time and beyond the bounds of this world,’ drawled Glorfindel, earning himself a discrete kick on the shin from Elrond. Poor Glorfindel spoiled that by letting out a yelp but stopped short of rubbing his leg. 

The dark elf, Maglor, had fixed Glorfindel with a threatening death glare. Even little Frisk held his breath until Maglor gave a sharp, harsh, bark of laughter totally out of place with his usual melodic voice. ‘The former Lord of the House of the Golden Flower is, the Golden Git, just this once right.’ Maglor turned his bottomless grey gaze on T’lara.

‘Through Fire, Fog and Fall,’ he mused. ‘One day there is a song there, but for now..l take it this oath is a reference to Thread Fall in the dangers of fog, and the fire is dragon’s fire? It is a way of saying no matter the danger you will honour your Vow?

Before T’lara could reply, Glorfindel let out a chuckle of his own, ‘Golden Git! It is at least reasonably original. You know Feanorian, l almost regret not having met your father, l wonder what he would’ve made of T’lara and her dragon?’

‘Probably would’ve kidnapped them and used Omath to flame Morgoth,’ Maglor said as he accepted a glass of wine from Glorfindel. 

‘Now, there’s definitely a song there, ‘what shall we do with a kidnapped dragon? What shall we do with a kidnapped dragon? What shall we do with a kidnapped dragon? Go and flame Morgoth!’

Glorfindel laughed gloriously, and T’lara giggled a bit. Maglor looked disgusted, ‘let me write the songs,’ he scolded. ‘You stick to drinking!’

Everyone burst into merry laughter, and T’lara found herself with a guitar in hand again,

‘Gather, Gather, it’s a Gather Day,  
No work for us and Thread’s away!’ She sang, light and cheerful. 

As the words to the ancient Gather tune were repeated often, and the tune too, easily remembered, all of Elrond’s folk and the dwarves were soon singing along with one Hobbit and a mortal boy. 

It was Bilbo who asked, ‘what’s a Gather?’

And Estel who supported his question with, ‘it sounds fun!’

‘A Gather is when people come together to trade goods, to sing, dance and eat. Dragonriders help to bring people in, drovers bring livestock, cooks make bubbly pies and other delicious treats. Harpers sing their new songs, and everyone, even the dragons relax and have a good time.’

‘What’s a bubbly pie?’ asked Bombur. 

‘It’s yummy,’ laughed T’lara. ‘A bubbly pie is hot hot hot from the oven, a sweet fruit confection that is just amazing!’

‘If the elves lend their ovens, maybe we could make such pies,’ remarked Bilbo. 

‘Yes! Let’s ask!’and T’lara disappeared with Bilbo to ask about making bubbly pies. 

A couple of hours later.. Bilbo and T’lara were recruiting helpers to hand out the sweet fruity pies. 

Bombur helped of course, this was food, and he thought the pies were wonderful if the expression on his face was anything to go by. 

Everyone in the company tried some. T’lara stared in horror that the dwarves ate the pies still bubbling, so hot she would’ve seriously scalded her mouth!

Noticing the horrified look on T’lara’s face, Oin, of all people chuckled. He had always seemed distant, and stern, focused on the health of the dwarves, and his red haired brother was so grumpy that it surprised T’lara terribly that Oin would laugh. 

‘The look on your face, lass,’ the healer chuckled again. ‘Dwarves tolerate heat, fire, hot food and such a lot better than most people.’ 

Thinking, T’lara remembered she’d seen different dwarves reach into the fire and adjust firewood or handle sizzling hot pans she hadn’t paid that much attention, ‘Are you fireproof or something?’

‘No lass, just able to tolerate high temperatures.’ Oin gave her a curious look.

‘Don’t worry, we won’t burn ourselves.’

T’lara looked disbelieving at that, but watching the dwarves happily continue to eat the boiling food she eventually had to believe Oin. 

It was Maglor who drew her aside. ‘That performance was impressive,’ he drawled.

‘It was no performance.’

Startled, the elf stared at the small woman. ‘You were serious? Oh, how l wish my father could’ve met you!’ He laughed grimly, yet melodically.

‘So, it was no joke that your father would kidnap us to use for his own purposes?’

‘No, l was quite serious. If it’s any consolation, l and some of my brothers would have tried to stop him.’

‘Where is your father?’

‘Dead.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ T’lara was puzzled, and Maglor picked up on it. 

‘You’re wondering how a supposedly immortal elf is dead? Well, we don’t get sick, and we don’t die of age. We can be killed in war, die of poisoning or accidents, though. Before you ask, my father was killed in battle.’

A few seconds silence followed. Maglor spoke softly after T’lara started to get uncomfortable with the silence, and the strange way the elf looked at her, out of his unearthly gray eyes as if trying to read her very soul, ‘when do l get a ride on your winged friend?’

‘Right now if you like!’

Balin watched slightly disturbed as T’lara harnessed Omath with Maglor’s assistance. He didn’t like her laughing with elf Lord, and scowled unhappily til Omath’s mind touched his gently. 

‘My rider but humours the elf, and is using his wish to ride me as an excuse to get to know his motives and for more exercise for me. Don’t worry, l will return my rider to you soon.’

Surprised, Balin questioned, ‘return T’lara to me?’ 

‘Yes, of course. She will not so say so, but she needs your time and attention. Once l have flown with this elf, l will take you and T’lara on an evening flight. 

Even more surprised, Balin asked Omath, ‘an evening flight? Why?’

‘Because my rider likes to take flight with you at night, because she likes how you hold her when you sit behind her on me.’

Balin shifted, a little embarrassed. ‘Oh!’ was all that would come out. 

Maglor enjoyed his ride on Omath very much. ‘Father would definitely have kidnapped you and Omath, not just for the clear tactical advantage of looking about the place from the air, but also for the sheer fun of riding Omath. Thank you both for an incredible experience,’ he bowed and disappeared, humming lightly under his breath. 

Balin approached, and took T’lara’s hand, kissing it. ‘Dinner time, my lady,’ he smiled. 

Dinner was happy. Smiling Dwarves were now, for some reason on their best behaviour. Perhaps it was because the elves had offered them more sausages to cook? Certainly while the Dwarves were eating heartily and drinking rather a lot, plus telling jokes and pulling pranks on each other, they were not throwing food or walking on the tables. 

T’lara enjoyed the meal, especially Frisk showing how he could eat sausages at incredible speed. As expected, the dwarves bet on how long it would take Frisk to eat ten sausages. T’lara then put her foot down on him having more, because she didn’t want the little blue being sick from overeating. 

Twilight fell, and T’lara was making sure the last of the Company were on schedule for a familiarisation ride on Omath. Bombur was trying to get out of it by saying he was too corpulent. T’lara was having none of that and told him to be ready to go at 9 o’clock. ‘Estel will come with us too. He so much enjoys going flying!’

Bombur nodded, venturing softly, ‘he is a nice young lad.’

Pleased that the very quiet dwarf was speaking, T’lara smiled, ‘l believe you have quite a large family?’

Bombur nodded, smiling back. ‘Five lads and two lasses,’ he said proudly. A gentle conversation developed with Bombur telling some tales of his children, and their antics, most of which Bofur was responsible for. With a bit of help at times from Bifur, or so the axe bearing dwarf said. 

T’lara countered with the time her son, Ricor and some of his friends were punished for a prank played on The Masterharper on one of his visits to Benden Weyr. The boys were punished by having to wash, and oil, the three biggest dragons on Pern, Ramoth, Mnenmeth, and Canth. Somehow, they managed to use an oil that turned all three dragons a magnificent shade of lilac! Right before the big Fort Turn’s End Gather too!’ T’lara laughed at the reactions from the dwarves as Omath flashed a brief memory of the lilac dragons around. 

‘Father and F’lar made the boys clean up the livestock and shovel Firestone ash for months. I still don’t know how they turned the dragons lilac!,’ and all her listeners had a good laugh with her.

‘Are you going to sing tonight, T’lara?’ Estel, who had been taking all his meals with the Dwarves asked. 

‘Nope, we all are! I’m going to teach everyone a special song that involves a lot of clapping, and the stamping of boots.’ 

‘What song’s this, lass,’ called out Bofur, always keen for a new tune or song. 

‘It’s called the Alarm Chorus, and Estel,’ T’lara grinned at the startled boy, ‘you get to lead it!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly longer chapter, next chapter T’lara, Estel and the Dwarves rock the Hall of Fire before we leave Rivendell behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, first chapter up, really just setting the scene here with some background on T’lara and Omath.


End file.
